


The Mighty Avenger Adventure Camp

by imafriendlydalek, orbingarrow



Category: Avengers Academy (Video Game), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Camping, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mutual Pining, Steve and Tony are 16 and 17, but with a side of Alaskan Wilderness Survival, seriously Fury your camp is a lawsuit waiting to happen, this camp is like non-magical Hogwarts, this is technically an AvAc fic but could also be read as a general Marvel AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-04 17:43:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 32,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12776148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imafriendlydalek/pseuds/imafriendlydalek, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbingarrow/pseuds/orbingarrow
Summary: “What the hell kind of camp leaves a bunch of teenagers on their own in the woods for a week, anyway?”That’s a valid question, Tony. This isn’t your average summer camp, after all - this is the Mighty Avenger Adventure Camp! Where you’ll learn all the skills you need to get through Survival Week out in the rugged wilderness, and maybe learn a bit about yourself along the way, all while forging new friendships. And maybe a budding romance with that pretty blond Counselor in Training. Too bad counselors and campers shouldn’t date...





	1. Camp

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was very much a group effort: it was co-written by orbingarrow and imafriendlydalek, it features art by the awesomely talented selofain and taz23, and was beta-read by the SPAGMaster fitz_y. Be sure to send [Selofain](https://selofain.deviantart.com/) and [Taz](https://tazjbj0vi83.deviantart.com/) some love on deviantart! Thanks, team!
> 
> The authors would like to note that we know very little about actual mountaineering, so please do not expect too much realism in that one scene that involves rappelling. Actually, we also know fairly little about rafting and outdoorsmanship and building fires and camping and should probably leave our houses more often...

The sun had come out, and it was clear that it was going to be a nice day. The rain of the past weeks had finally lifted, and now there was hardly a cloud in the sky. Birds chirped from the budding trees, the irises were starting to come up, and the entire city seemed to be in that collective chipper mood that happens around springtime in New York City.

All of this was lost on Tony Stark, who was far too busy fiddling with a bit of particularly uncooperative circuitry to notice, let alone come out of his workshop in the basement of his family’s Fifth Avenue mansion.

He’d been at it for days - his entire Spring Break so far, to be exact - but every time he thought he was making progress, a wire would melt or a fuse would blow or this damn bot he was working on would do _exactly the opposite_ of what he wanted from it.

“That’s it!” Howard Stark bellowed upstairs. “Enough of this staying inside alone all the time. He’s sixteen - he should be out with friends, painting the town red, chasing girls! I’m signing the boy up for the outdoor camp!”

“Howard, don’t be rash,” Maria Stark interjected. There was an undeniable tone of disinterest in her voice. “I’m sure he does plenty of that at school.”

A derisive huff was followed by heavy steps on the stairs.

Tony edged open one of the drawers beneath him with his knee and swept his arm across the mess of loose bolts and metal, managing to clean off most of the table in one go. He knocked the drawer closed right as his father’s legs came into view.

If Howard was pissed, the last thing Tony needed was to hear an additional lecture on how “a structured desk means a structured mind.”

Which was bullshit. As was all the camp nonsense, too. Howard had been threatening to send Tony away for years, and it was all just hot air. As if Tony being away during the school year wasn’t enough.

“Yes, sir?” Tony asked, forcing himself to be polite if only to hurry this paternal lecture along.

“You’re going to camp this summer. And until you’re back at school, the basement is off-limits. Go outside. Get some air.”

Tony’s semi-polite smile turned into a scowl.

“That’s not fair!”

“Not fair?!” Howard shouted back, nostrils flaring. “You want not fair? When I was your age, boys were getting shipped off to _war_ at sixteen. I think you’ll survive summer camp. Might teach you a thing or two about appreciating what you’ve got.”

Tony was about to shoot back a response that he was already plenty aware of what he had, thank you very much, when Howard added,

“Might make a man out of you.”

And there it was. It didn’t matter that Tony was the youngest person ever to attend MIT, that he was in the middle of a ground-breaking project in artificial intelligence, that he’d been building circuit boards while he was still in diapers. No, the only thing that mattered was what Tony wasn’t doing, which was living up to the Stark legacy of being a “man about town.” Tony didn’t feel the need to pick up random girls and let himself get spotted with them by the paparazzi, so clearly Tony wasn’t good enough for the Stark name.

Story of Tony’s life, really.

That was when his mother appeared behind Howard, a half-empty martini glass in hand. Tony glanced at the clock - 11:15. Wow, that was early, even for her.

“Tony, dear,” she said in a saccharine-sweet voice. Tony couldn’t help but wonder if she was clutching Howard’s elbow like that to hold him back or herself steady. “Darling, you know your father and I made our plans to summer in Monaco this year a long time ago, and Jarvis will be in England while we’re gone, so it’s not like you can stay _here_ by yourself.”

Tony struggled and failed to stifle a laugh. They were sending him off to summer camp like a little kid so they could enjoy their luxury vacation. And the worst part was, at just barely sixteen, there was nothing he could do about it.

***

A few miles away and a few months later, in a fifth-floor walk-up in Brooklyn, a dark-haired boy lay sprawled out on a narrow bed, one leg dangling over the edge and the other foot on the pillow. He watched as his friend placed another carefully folded shirt into a battered duffle bag.

“Stevie,” the dark-haired boy whined, “camp’s not for another _two days_. Plentya time to pack until then. Come on, it’s a nice day, let’s go somewhere. I’m gonna die of boredom if we stay inside any longer.”

Steve picked up one of the boy’s discarded socks from the floor and tossed it at him, hitting him square in the face. 

“Not all of us like to leave packing to the last minute, Buck. It’s good to be prepared. We’re gonna be counselors in training this year. That means a lot of responsibility, and I don’t want to be asking one of the campers to borrow a flashlight cuz I forgot mine. Which is why you should be glad I am packing now since you always forget half the stuff on the packing list. You’ll thank me when I have spare socks I can loan you.”

Bucky groaned dramatically before tossing the sock back at Steve. “Fine. Thirty more minutes. I will let you pack for another half hour before I drag your sad ass out of here.”

“Fine,” Steve shot back, a smile spreading across his face as he spread out his sleeping bag to re-roll it. “But we’re using _your_ MetroCard.”

***

“Mooo-ooom,” Tony sighed as he swept into the room, drawing the word out into two syllables.

“Camp isn’t up for discussion,” Maria said simply.

Tony huffed. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about,” Tony said.

He had a plan. And that plan was to get what he _needed_ by giving his mom what she wanted: compliance.

“I want to go to camp,” Tony lied. “I just don’t want to be there alone.” That one was true.

“You make friends quickly.” Lie.

“But I’ll be there for _three weeks_. What if I don’t. What if no one likes me?” Tony asked. He hated it more than a little that all this was supposed to be deception, but this question felt way too close to the truth. It was tough fitting in when you were three years younger than most of your classmates. And while everyone at this camp would be his age, he was sure that he would still stick out because of his unusual schooling situation. And his last name. “What if everyone already has a best friend going with them?”

There it was. He’d set the bait and he looked down at the floor and scuffed his sock against the ground as he waited for her to put it all together. To get there. 

“What if James went with you?” she asked after a few seconds. Bingo.

“Rhodey’s parents are saving up to go to the beach at the end of summer,” Tony explained.

“Of course we would pay,” Maria said, waving away the objection with a swish of her hand. “Would that end your fuss?”

Fuss. As if Tony was still four and all of this was just another tantrum. Still, he needed to play along if he had any hope of getting what he wanted, so Tony nodded emphatically. Maria gave him a tired smile.

“I’ll have Jarvis call the Rhodes,” she said. “You focus on staying out of your father’s hair from now until you leave.”

“Done.”

***

***

Finally it was here, the day Steve Rogers had been looking forward to for the past eleven months: the day he and Bucky headed off to camp.

They had first spent their summer at camp two years ago. The camp usually only took kids age 15 and up, but a bit of finagling from Sarah Rogers had convinced the camp’s director, Nick Fury, to let it slide - Steve’s birthday was going to be during camp anyway. He’d been the youngest that year, and the smallest by at least six inches. A few of the older kids had picked on him about it and ended up with bruised cheeks and bloody noses for their trouble. Steve and Bucky had expected to be sent home when Fury had called them into the camp office after it happened again the second year; he’d tossed ice packs at them for their own bruises and told them about the counselor in training program instead.

This year was going to be different. They were CITs this year, which meant responsibility. They would serve as role models for the younger campers, city kids like Steve and Bucky who had probably never seen this many trees before in their life. During the first two weeks of camp, the kids would learn various skills like rope climbing, archery, swimming, crafts, mountaineering and survival skills. Steve had spent all year reading up on each of those activities, and he and Bucky had been hitting the gym together. 

“Holy shit, Rogers,” Hawkeye called across the parking lot as Steve and Bucky stepped out of the Barnes’ old Accord. Clint was a counselor this year and was in charge of archery. He was two years older than Steve and Bucky, but that hadn’t kept them from becoming good friends over the past years, when he’d been a counselor in training. He came jogging over, his dog Lucky following close behind, and pulled first Bucky and then Steve in for a hug while Lucky gave them a warm, wet doggy kiss. Clint stepped back and made a show of looking Steve over, giving Steve’s bicep a squeeze for good measure. “What the hell happened to you? Almost didn’t recognize you.”

Steve ducked his head, scratching at the back of his neck. “I hit a growth spurt,” he explained with a shrug.

“Yeah, and he’s turned into a gym rat,” Bucky scoffed, mussing Steve’s hair playfully before hefting his duffle bag over his shoulder. “Come on. Faster we find our cabin, faster we can get to the dining hall. I’m starving.”

It was impressive how quickly Bucky, who had needed considerable dragging just to get his bags packed, could move when there was a hot lunch buffet to be had. In just thirty minutes, they hiked over to the administration building to check in with Pepper Potts, the camp’s second-in-command, found their cabin, dumped their bags in their room and hiked back to the main lodge, where the dining hall was.

“This right here,” Bucky mumbled around a mouthful of tater tots, “this is why camp is the greatest.”

Steve raised an eyebrow as he sawed a piece off his chicken cutlet with a blunt butter knife, since apparently camp believed they could handle carving knives and arrows but not proper cutlery. “Really, tater tots is what makes it great? Not being outdoors, getting to climb trees and enjoy nature, meeting new people? Tater tots?”

Bucky smirked unapologetically as he dunked another tot into the vat of ketchup in front of him and popped it into his mouth.

“I’m with him on that,” Clint agreed, dropping a tot off the table for his drooling dog.

***

Tony turned his head from where it was pressed up against the car window just far enough to look at the sign as they drove past. The wood was worn, and the paint could certainly use a new coat.

“Mighty Avenger Adventure Camp,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “That’s a mouthful.”

“Oh, look at the horses!” Maria said, her voice dripping with faux-cheerfulness. Of course she was happy - soon Tony would be out of her hair again for three weeks, living like a bush-person while she and Howard basked in the sun in Monaco.

Tony looked over to where Rhodey was sitting next to him. Rhodey caught the glance and rolled his eyes. It was good to have someone on his side.

They continued along the pothole-ridden gravel road farther into camp, the woods denser after they’d passed the pastures. There were small cabins tucked into the trees, and in the distance Tony caught a glimpse of a lake. Eventually they came to a clearing and Howard pulled into a parking spot in front of a low cabin with a sign out front labeling it CAMP ADMINISTRATION. As they got out of the Land Rover, a man wearing a billowing black coat came out of the building, and it quickly became clear to Tony why his father had actually wanted to drive Tony and Rhodey to camp himself.

“Mr. Stark,” the man greeted him, a hand extended towards Tony’s father. “Glad you’ve decided to have your son spend the summer with us.”

The man’s tone didn’t have the tone of sucking-up that most people used when talking to his father, plus the guy had a pretty badass eyepatch. Tony decided he probably wasn’t all bad after all.

“Director Fury, I presume? Good to meet you,” Howard replied as he shook the man’s hand.  
“We’ve met before,” Fury said. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember. Back then, I had _two_ eyes.”

He said it in an overly ominous tone that made Tony and Rhodey grin and Tony’s mother avert her eyes from Fury’s face entirely. Howard looked slightly put off by a man who clearly had no interest in kissing his ass.

“I do remember,” Howard said smartly. “Of course. Anyway, we must be going. My secretary will be available for any calls regarding Anthony. James won’t give you any trouble.”

Tony wasn’t sure if he was more annoyed that his father was already planting the seeds that he’d be trouble or that he was dismissing Rhodey’s natural ability to wreak all sorts of hell on his own, thank you very much. They wouldn’t be best friends if Rhodey was just a goody-two-shoes-stick-in-the-mud.

“I’ll behave, dad,” Tony assured him.

As much as he hadn’t been looking forward to camp, he was more than ready for his parents to say their goodbyes. He’d say about anything if it got them back in the car. Thankfully Director Fury seemed to agree.

“I’m sure you will,” Fury said. His tone was so deadpan Tony had no idea if the Director believed that or not. “We’ll see you in three weeks.”

“Shouldn’t we walk them to their cabin?” Maria asked.

Noooooooooow she wanted to parent.

“We find it keeps homesickness to a minimum when our campers say their goodbyes in the parking lot.”

“I’ll write to you,” Maria said.

She absolutely wouldn’t. She might have texted or sent a selfie from the beach, but campers weren’t allowed to have phones, as Howard had been sure to point out. There was no way Maria Stark was going to write a letter. But Rhodey’s mom would send enough letters for them both.

With nothing else to do or say, Howard gave Tony a stiff pat on the arm, and Maria pulled him into a hug. They gave Rhodey a nod and then moved toward the car. Director Fury might look like a hard-ass, but he was also a miracle worker. Tony could work with this.

“Leave your bags by the door. You can check in with Miss Potts, and she’ll have one of the counselors-in-training show you to your bunks. You’ve already received the rules, but there will be a cabin meeting at 1700 hours to go over them again before dinner. Between now and then you can walk around. Get acquainted with the facilities. Act like gentlemen.”

Director Fury didn’t wait for a response. He spun on his heel, and his coat billowed around him as he stalked away.

“Bad. Ass,” Rhodey whispered. “He is _awesome_.”

“Act like gentlemen, gentlemen,” Tony mimicked, though with a deep reverence for tone that showed he wasn’t making jokes in the least. Just impressed.

Maybe– _maybe_ – this whole camp thing wouldn’t be as bad as he’d thought.

*

“...you’ve been assigned to Excelsior Lodge.”

Steve’s ears perked at Miss Potts’ words, overheard outside the craft supply room he was in, gathering what he needed for the activity he was going to be running later at the camper introduction meeting, and he sprang to his feet in anticipation of what would come next.

“There are two CITs - counselors-in-training - assigned to each cabin,” she was explaining, and Steve decided that was his cue to introduce himself.

“Hi! That’s me!” He stuck his head out the door as he said it, maybe a little too enthusiastically, he realized when the two campers and the usually unflappable Pepper Potts all took a small jump back.

“Hi Steve,” Miss Potts said, composure regathered. “Steve, this is James and Tony. They’ll be in your lodge. But I guess you already heard that.”

“Hi,” Steve greeted again, this time with a small wave to the campers. James was tall and a bit lanky, with short, curly black hair and a neatly pressed polo shirt. Tony was shorter, with tousled brown hair that curled into his eyes and a defiant gleam in his eyes. His wrinkled t-shirt had what looked like a robot dinosaur surfing through the galaxy.

Steve had spent enough summers at camp to be able to recognize the types of campers right away - James looked like the kind of camper who was excited to be there and would participate happily, especially in the outdoors activities, judging by his worn boots. Tony, on the other hand, looked like this was the last place he wanted to be. Lots of kids got sent to camp because their parents had to work, and not all of them were as eager as James looked to be. Kids like Tony, they came unwillingly and were usually a handful for the first week or so. Some never fully warmed up to being at camp, but those who did usually ended up being the saddest to leave.

“I’m headed up to the cabin. I can show you the way,” Steve offered.

“Thanks, Steve. See you at the meeting later,” Miss Potts said, already turning to greet some more campers who had just arrived.

“So, where are you guys from?” Steve asked, gathering the supplies he’d pulled out and leading James and Tony out of the administration building.

“The city,” James offered.

“Oh yeah? A lot of the campers here are. Where about?”

“Washington Heights for me. But this one,” James pointed towards Tony, who was scowling at his own feet as he trudged along a few steps behind them, “is an Upper East Sider.”

“Really?” Steve was about to remark that camp would be worlds away from what he was used to, but Tony’s eyes snapped up at his reply and he glared with such fiery intent that Steve decided it was better, for the sake of the camper spirit, to drop it. “I’m from Brooklyn. So is Bucky, the other CIT. We live in the same building.”

“Bucky?” Tony asked with a raised eyebrow.

Steve shrugged. “His name’s actually James, but there were, like, four Jameses on our block, so they all got nicknames, and it kinda stuck.”

Tony was laughing more loudly at that than most would, so Steve looked to James for an explanation.

James rolled his eyes at his friend. “I rarely go by James too, for the same reason. Most people call me Jim, but Tony _insists_ on calling me Rhodey. Or Pooh Bear, or sourpuss, or peaches, or gummy bear. Or whatever other stupid name pops into his head.” He gives Tony a shove, but it’s a friendly gesture so Steve doesn’t reprimand him for it. “You guys can call me Rhodey, too, if you want. Probably easier.”

“Sure thing, Rhodey. Left up here.” 

Steve led them off the main path to a narrow gravel path. Under a cluster of tall pines stood Excelsior Lodge, a two-floor log cabin with a low roof that jutted out in front to form a porch. “Here we are.”

There was more shoving to get in the door, and Steve made a mental note to bring that up during the Rules Talk later. No rough-housing. It was obvious none of it was malicious, but other campers might think it was unfair if Tony and Rhodey got to play push and they didn’t.

About half the beds were already taken, but there were plenty that weren’t. Tony and Rhodey made their way through them, eyeing them with a sort of calculation Steve couldn’t help but associate with mischief.

“Where do you sleep?” Tony asked, with a sort of sudden innocence reminded Steve of Bucky when he was trying to weasel out of trouble.

“In there. Why?” Steve asked, pointing toward his own bunk in the counselors’ room.

“Rhodey snores,” Tony declared. “We wouldn’t want to keep you up. I’m sure CITs need their sleep.”

“ _I snore?_ ” Rhodey asked, with a grin. “How could you even hear it over all your sleep-talking? And sleep- _singing_?”

“I don’t sleep-sing,” Tony hissed. “That was one time.”

“Memoriessssssss. All alone in the moonliiiiight,” Rhodey sang out, clutching a hand to his chest.

Tony pushed him, harder this time than before, tumbling him into an already occupied bunk.

“It’s _memory_ ,” Tony corrected. “Singular.”

“No rough-housing!” Steve announced, a little louder than necessary because these two were already clearly going to be a handful.

“That wasn’t rough,” Tony protested. “That’s ... gentle-housing.”

Both Tony and Rhodey dissolved into a fit of laughter and Steve groaned.

“I need to get back to work,” Steve said, figuring he’d ask Bucky’s advice on how he thought they should handle these two. It was good to see Tony smiling at least. Genuinely smiling. Steve had thought that’d take at least a full week, given how grumpy he’d looked back at the admin building.

Camp was good for just about anyone who’d give it a chance. And from the sounds of Tony and Rhodey arguing about the merits of top and bottom bunks, they were both more than ready to settle in.

*

“I don’t think he likes me,” Tony said, once Steve was out of earshot.

“You don’t think anyone likes you,” Rhodey pointed out.

“Why’d you have to tell him I live on the Upper East Side?” Tony asked. 

“Uhhh … because you _do_?” Rhodey responded smartly. “And he asked.”

“I just want to be someone else for a couple of weeks,” Tony sighed. Someone people like. He didn’t say the words out loud, but they hung in the air.

“I don’t want to be here with someone else,” Rhodey said. “And if anyone’s got a problem with you or where you’re from, that’s them, not you. So forget it. And don’t think you’re getting top bunk just cause you got all sulky just now. I called it when you told me about camp.”

“I called it before I told you about camp,” Tony countered.

“I called it before you were born,” Rhodey lied.

“I called it before ...”

“Hiya!” An overly excited girl’s voice interrupted their banter, and Tony and Rhodey both spun around to see a waifish girl about their age standing in the doorway. A pair of designer sunglasses was tucked into her short brown hair, and her clearly carefully curated outfit - khaki shorts and a plaid blouse tucked into an oversized belt buckle - practically screamed “I am going to be in the woods but I’m still going to look cute doing it.” Tony decided he liked her.

“I’m Jan!” She pressed a lollipop into each of their hands before popping one into her mouth. “First time at camp? You look too old to be first-years, but I don’t remember you from last year.”

Rhodey nodded, but before either could say anything, Steve appeared from seemingly out of nowhere and stretched out a hand. “It’s definitely not your first time, Jan, so I know you know that sugary snacks are not allowed in the cabins.” He waved his hand for them to give up the lollipops, a disapproving frown on his face.

There was something endearing about his would-be authoritative look. Tony shook off the thought, resolved not to delve any further into what it meant.

Instead, he handed Steve the lollipop reluctantly.

“Aw Steeeeeeve, why you gotta be such a spoilsport? Camp hasn’t even officially started yet!”

“The ants won’t care if we’ve had our cabin meeting yet or not.” His face softened after Rhodey and Jan also handed over their candy, and there was an amused tone in his voice when he said, “Trust me, you’ll be glad when you don’t wake up in the middle of the night covered in crawlies.”

“Yeah, just ask Scott!” Jan giggled. “Come on, boys, let’s ditch Captain Spoilsport, and I’ll show you around!”

Steve looked a little wounded, only for a second, but Tony caught it. This was why being the guy enforcing the rules was no fun at all and that would never be Tony. If Jan noticed, she didn’t show it. Just bounced out, with the clear expectation that she would be followed.

She already had new lollipops in hand for them before they reached the bottom of the steps.

“Oh my gosh, you’re Tony Stark,” she said suddenly, as she handed him his candy.

Tony braced himself for either a sycophantic reaction or a rude one, but he got neither.

“We’ve met before! When we were like 9 or 10. Our moms were in some foundation together? It was at that park-naming ceremony ...”

Jan’s nose scrunched up as she tried to recall the memory. Tony didn’t need to work on his recollection. He remembered it right away.

“We got in trouble because we got our shoes dirty,” Tony confirmed.

And because neither of their fathers had seemed thrilled the kids had made such fast friends.

“Your hair was a lot longer then,” Tony said.

“And you were shorter,” Jan said.

“He’s still short,” Rhodey chimed in. He stuck out his hand to shake hers right as Tony gave him a playful bump. “I’m Rhodey, by the way.”

“It’s so awesome you two are in my cabin this year! We’re going to have so much fun.”

“What about Captain Spoilsport?” Rhodey asked. “Is he always so into the rules?”

“He loves them so much he’s going to marrrrrry them,” Jan giggled around her sucker. “And have little pretty rule babies.”

“I don’t want ants in my bed,” Tony said, which was kind of a non-sequitur but well – something rubbed him the wrong way about piling blame on Steve. Probably that split second where Steve had looked like a kicked puppy.

“Neither do I,” Jan said. “I just like to give Steve a hard time. Just wait till you meet our other CIT, Bucky! The two of them are hilarious together. You’re going to love it here.”

Jan looped an arm through Tony’s arm and then through Rhodey’s so she could walk between them. Her tour was the perfect mix of information and gossip. They were just past the counselors’ cabin when Jan stopped suddenly and pulled her arm free from Tony so she could wave wildly at a pack of campers across a clearing.

“It’s the rest of our cabin,” she explained. “Guuuuuuuuuys!” she called. “Come meet Tony and Rhodey! They’re bunking with us!”

“Could you not tell them my last name?” Tony asked quietly.

Jan turned and looked at him like he’d just sprouted a tail. “If they’ve got a problem with you, they’re gonna have a problem with me,” she said fiercely. “And nobody wants to have a problem with me.”

Jan took off running toward the approaching group, and Rhodey leaned in to whisper, “I don’t know whether I’m scared or impressed.”

“Impressed,” Tony said. “Definitely impressed.”

***

Clint and Bucky, apparently not very concerned with getting things ready for the start of camp activities tomorrow or with greeting the campers as they arrived, had nabbed one of the flannel blankets that usually lay over the couches in the cabin’s common area and had spread it out in the far corner of West Field. There was a massive oak tree, a beautiful thing with gnarly branches that were perfect for climbing and provided a great spot for reading or just catching some alone time. The shady area under the tree, with just the right amount of cooling breeze coming off Crescent Lake, was a popular hang-out.

“Figured I’d find you bums here,” Steve huffed as he flopped down onto the blanket next to where they were lying on their backs. Steve couldn’t help but note the lack of space between the two of them. Huh. Something’s going on there.

Bucky rolled onto his side, Clint’s head appearing over his shoulder just a second later as Bucky prodded Steve in the ribs. 

“Plentya time to meet the new campers at the meeting later. Just enjoying the quiet while it lasts, before the kids discover our spot.”

Steve huffed. “ _Your_ spot? Pretty sure people have been coming out here long before you and I ever set foot on this mountain, Buck. And b’sides, don’t think we can really call them ‘kids.’ Some a’ them’re only a year younger’n we are.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Can’t all be _dinosaurs_ like you, Barton,” Bucky retorted, reaching over to pinch Clint’s chin where it lay nestled in the crook of Bucky’s neck.

Clint growled in indignation. He was only two years older than Bucky and (soon) Steve, of course, but somehow 19 seemed a lot older than 17. Maybe because Clint already worked full time, while Steve and Bucky were headed into their senior year of high school after the summer. But they’d been close friends for years, the three of them, and this _whatever-it-is_ between Clint and Bucky had been going on for almost as long. A “will they, won’t they?” with a side of “are they, aren’t they?” and a dash of “just admit it already.” They didn’t see much of Clint during the year, except for that one time he’d come to the city over Columbus Day weekend, and they’d gone to Coney Island and Clint had won _every. damn. toy_ at the shooting stands, but once camp was in session, Clint and Bucky just kind of … gravitated towards one another. It was tough not to feel like a third wheel sometimes, but Steve didn’t want to make a fuss about it since he could tell how happy his friend was when Clint was around.

Lucky had apparently decided it was time to come out of the lake to say hi, showering the three boys in a spray of lake water as he shook himself off before flopping down on top of them, his tongue lolling.

“Aw, Lucky, no!” Clint tried half-heartedly to shove the massive dog off the blanket, to no avail.

“Ugh,” Steve sighed. “Four new campers in our cabin this year.” It was unexpected to have that many new faces - Fury usually tried to limit the number of newcomers in one group, but apparently there had been a “bumper crop” of newbies this year.

“Shit, that’ll make things tough during Survival Week,” Bucky pointed out.

Steve nodded before lacing his fingers together and pillowing his hands behind his head. “Yep. Gonna be a handful, too, those two newbies. At least the one. Tony. He’s got that ‘I don’t want to be here so I hate everything’ thing going on.”

“Aw crap,” Bucky muttered.

“Gonna be tough to take down Timely with that many newbs,” Clint pointed out.

Bucky and Steve groaned in unison. Their sometimes-more-sometimes-less friendly competition with Timely Lodge had grown more fierce in the last year, and after narrowly missing victory over the other cabin during Survival Week, plus with them being CITs now, they were determined to “kick Timely butt” (Bucky’s words) this year.

A gong rang out, loud and clear throughout the valley the camp was nestled in, then a second. The three of them scrambled to their feet, Clint and Bucky folding up the blanket swiftly. They all knew exactly what that sound meant - meeting in ten.

***

Tony liked the campers that Jan introduced him to immediately.

Sam, like Jan, had been to camp before. Peter and Kamala were both first-time campers and full of an infectious sort of enthusiasm that Tony couldn’t help getting carried along with.

Oh. And they didn’t give a shit about his last name. None of the three so much as blinked when Jan had introduced him. So that was good.

“We’re pretty much done with the tour,” Jan said, after she’d looked at her watch. “Want to go sit on the porch while we wait for the Talk?”

“We’ve only got a couple of minutes anyway,” Sam agreed. He turned toward Peter and Kamala. “You guys remember how to get back to the cabin?”

“Absolutely,” Kamala said.

“Then lead the way,” Sam prompted.

Kamala smiled brightly and walked ahead of the group. Jan moved up to join her, and Peter walked ahead as well.

“Tony Stark, huh?” Sam asked quietly, falling into step between Tony and Rhodey. He must have noticed the instant darkening of Tony’s face because he stopped walking. “I like your YouTube videos,” he explained. “I’ve watched almost all of them. All the drone ones anyway. And the robot ones. Robot Peanut Butter Sandwich Fail is my favorite video of all time.”

Tony’s irritation faded. “Really? Do you ever comment?”

Tony didn’t have a lot of friends at MIT, but he did have a fair amount of online friends. Or, well – they felt like friends. Online acquaintances with similar interests. He’d never met any of them because he couldn’t ever shake the feeling (or forget Howard’s warnings) that anyone who wanted to be his friend was after his money.

“Sometimes. I’m Falcon202,” Sam said. “I don’t say anything cool enough that you’d notice.”

“You’re interested in robotics?” Tony asked.

“Unless you want a full-on dissertation about robots, you might want to back away real slow,” Rhodey teased. “Once you get him started, he doesn’t stop.”

Tony stuck his tongue out at Rhodey. He didn’t bother to argue, because Rhodey was telling the truth.

“I’m all ears,” Sam offered.

Tony beamed as Rhodey shrugged. “S’your funeral, man.”

Rhodey gave Tony a light push on the shoulder as he left them behind to go join Jan, Peter and Kamala, who’d gotten a few yards ahead.

As promised, Sam seemed endlessly fascinated by anything Tony had to say about the drones he’d made, and he asked a lot of questions that made it obvious Sam had done a fair amount of drone building all on his own. Tony didn’t even realize they’d made it all the way back to the cabin until he and Sam were up the stairs and Sam dropped to wooden floor of the porch to sit criss-cross-applesauce.

“You can take one of the chairs,” Sam offered. “I just like it down here.”

Jan and Rhodey were in chairs, but Peter and Kamala had gone for the floor, too. Tony went ahead and joined them, though he stretched his legs forward and leaned back on his hands. It was hot out, but the breeze and the shade of the overhead porch made it comfortably cool, and with some amount of reluctance, he realized that in at least one way his parents had been right - fresh air was doing him good.

The screen door of the cabin opened with a long, agonizing creak and out stepped Steve, followed closely by two other guys. The first was almost as tall as Steve, with dark brown hair that fell into his face and a look about him that told Tony that this was the guy to turn to if they needed an accomplice for mischief. Probably the Bucky who Steve had mentioned earlier. The blond one was a bit shorter, though he looked maybe a year or two older than Steve, with a bored look on his face and impressive biceps. Trailing behind him was a massive Lab mix, its tail wagging fiercely.

“Hey guys,” Steve started, pulling up one of the Adirondack chairs and taking a seat. “I know we’ve all met during the day, but in case you’ve forgotten, I’m Steve.” He pointed to himself, then the dark-haired boy. “This is Bucky, your second CIT - that stands for Counselor in Training.” Bucky waved with a weak smile and a nod. “And this is Clint, who isn’t one of the CITs, but you will all still get to know him and his dog Lucky plenty in the next two weeks because he is our archery instructor.”

“And he’s also leaving now,” Clint added as he stepped off the porch. “See ya all tomorrow. Don’t take anything Steve says too seriously. He talks a tough game, but he’s a softy at heart. Come on, pizza dog.”

Steve tossed the whistle he’d been holding after Clint, but Clint had already stepped out of range. Peter scrambled to retrieve the whistle.

“Thanks, Peter,” he acknowledged as Peter handed it over. “Anyway, Buck and I are here to help you guys have a great time this summer, so if there is ever anything you need, or something bugging you, or you want to talk about something, that’s what we’re here for.”

He was drumming lightly on the wood of his chair as he spoke, and Tony could not help but feel at ease. Maybe it was just the tone of his voice, calming in an even-toned sort of way, or maybe he was actually hypnotizing them with the rhythm he was tapping out - whatever it was, Tony felt he wouldn’t mind if the meeting continued into the evening. Unless the mosquitoes got worse.

“The days are pretty structured here at Mighty Avenger Adventure Camp, or MAvAC, as we call it,” Bucky continued, passing out a flyer to each of them as he spoke. “It’s all in that pamphlet and I assume you can all read just fine, but we gotta say it anyway so no one can complain that they didn’t know. So.” He took a deep breath before rattling off his points. “The morning gong rings at 8:30 to signal the start of breakfast. Morning session starts at 9:15, so don’t dally too long. And believe me, you do _not_ want to skip breakfast just to get a few minutes of extra sleep. Ropes course with a growling stomach is not a fun morning.”

Tony groaned to himself. Geez, that would mean getting up at 8, 8:15 the latest. Not Tony’s idea of an awesome summer.

“Lunch is at noon, and the afternoon session starts at one. There’s a bit of free time after that until dinner at six, and then again until bunk time at quarter to nine.”

“Of course you’re welcome to come to some of the extra activities during evening free time,” Steve added. “I’ll be running a crafting activity, for example. We’ll do some carving - that could be a useful skill to have during Survival Week.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna want all the skills you can pick up, cuz this year we gotta beat Timely.”

Steve rolled his eyes at Bucky, but his smile signaled he wasn’t upset. “Orrrrr, they could just want to learn something new for the sake of learning.”

A smile crept over Tony’s face at about the same time Rhodey prodded him in the ribs and looked over with a raised eyebrow. Yeah, it was kind of like that time they’d decided to learn how to make chainmail - just because it sounded like fun. His fingertips still prickled at the memory.

“Here’s the thing,” Bucky said, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair. “During Survival Week, we all get dropped off somewhere in the woods and we have to find our way back to the rendezvous point. The team that gets there first wins. That’s gonna be us.”

Kamala’s hand shot in the air.

“Uh, yeah, Kamala?”

“The brochure doesn’t say there’s a competition?”

“That’s because there isn’t,” Steve supplied. “Not officially. According to Fury, the point is just to get through on only your wits and will and how well the team works together. Winner doesn’t get anything other than bragging rights.”

“You say that like it’s not important,” Bucky said with a pout.

“It’s important because Bucky used to date Natasha, the CIT from Timely Lodge,” Sam stage-whispered, “so now they have to show the other up all the time.”

Steve let out an amused huff. “I’ll tell you what _is_ important. Following the rules.”

The entire group groaned in unison, but Steve waved the pamphlet at them as he continued.

“Complain all you want, you still gotta follow them.” Tony could have sworn there was a twinkle in Steve’s eye as he added, “Or at least, we gotta tell you them.”

Tony could work with that.

“One. No technology. If you’ve got it, hand it over after the meeting. You won’t get in any trouble unless you try and hide it, and then Fury’s gonna chew you a new ass–”

“Bucky,” Steve groaned.

“You can’t introduce the rules and break a rule at the same time,” Jan piped in. “Rule two, no cussing. At least where a counselor can hear you.”

“Yeah, well rule three is no candy in the cabin, and I’d bet big bucks you’ve got loads in your suitcase,” Bucky retorted. 

“You gonna paw through my bras to check?” Jan asked. “Or ... maybe I hid them in my tampons?”

They stared each other down for just a few seconds, and then they both burst out laughing. Tony was relieved. He hated lists of rules, and he couldn’t help but want to break every single one when the people enforcing them tried to be all hard-ass about it. The idea of not having access to the internet for three weeks seemed so absurd he was almost looking forward to trying it, but like hell he could go that long without swearing. Or a Butterfingers bar.

“Fine. Keep your candy. Let the ants eat you and your bras.”

“Or the bears,” Sam added.

Jan flicked a leaf at him.

“Anywayyyyyy,” Steve started again. “One, no tech. Two, no cussing. Three, no food in the cabin. Four, you’ve gotta keep shoes on at all times unless you’re heading to or from the lake.”

“Or in it, obviously,” Bucky piped up, earning himself some serious side-eye from Steve.

“Obviously. Five, stick to the dress code. Details are in the pamphlet. Six–”

“The dress code is sexist,” Jan said, raising her hand. “I’m not gonna follow it, and Fury can feel free to chew my ass.”

Tony had found his new best friend. Though when he glanced at Rhodey, it was pretty clear Rhodey was thinking the same thing. 

“Take it up with Fury then,” Bucky said.

“Which part is sexist?” Steve asked.

“The rules say one-piece swimwear only. So people with dicks get to swim in just trunks and no shirts, and people with vaginas can’t wear bikinis.”

“Technically trunks _are_ only one piece,” Sam pointed out. Though since he had a shit-eating grin on his face, Tony was pretty sure it was only to piss off Jan.

“Yeah, well, so are my bikini bottoms,” Jan said. “And you know I’m not going to be allowed to go to the lake wearing just those.”

“I’ll talk to Fury,” Steve said. “You’re right. That doesn’t sound fair.”

“Thank you,” Jan said.

The rest of the rules were definitely the usual things Tony expected. No one allowed out after curfew. No going in the water without a buddy. No fireworks (as if Tony needed fireworks to cause an explosion). Honestly, there was nothing there that Tony couldn’t deal with obeying. The key, he’d learned in his many years at boarding school, to not being allowed to swear was not to get caught, after all. The no-tech rule would be tough, but really the only person Tony texted with regularity was sitting right next to him, and now he could just reach out and punch him anytime he wanted.

Which, of course, led to a rule Tony and Rhodey had already heard: No rough-housing.

“Can you define rough-housing?” Tony asked, because Steve did this funny glare thing when he was annoyed that Tony definitely found more than a little adorable so Tony was determined to bring it out again. “Because I contend that gentle-housing is something entirely separate and part of the natural interaction between siblings. It’d be _unnatural_ to make me and Rhodey stop.”

“Rhodey’s your brother?” Bucky asked skeptically.

“Twin,” Rhodey chimed in. “Identical. At least that’s what our mom and dad always tell us. You wouldn’t want to argue with me and make Tony realize he’s adopted, would you?”

“I’m adopted?” Tony asks, in a fake, horrified voice. “But what about Granny Rhodes? I look just like her!”

Tony mock-clutched at his chest, wounded.

“You’re idiots,” Bucky intoned. “And you’re trouble,” he said, pointing at Jan and Sam. “Tell me you two are gonna behave at least?” he asked Peter and Kamala.

“I like to jump off buildings,” Peter said. “Are there any rules about that?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Bucky mumbled.

“Rule two!” the entire cabin of campers shouted in unison, then dissolved into fits of laughter, Steve right there with them.

“One last rule!” Steve finally managed, louder than earlier to get the group’s attention. “Boys are not allowed in girls’ rooms, and vice versa.”

“That is a stupid rule and I am not gonna follow that one either,” Jan said matter-of-factly as she crossed her arms.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her.

“It’s exclusionary. Camp is supposed to be about forging friendships with everyone, but there are four boys - six with the CITs - in our cabin and only two girls, so what that rule does is exclude me and Kamala from whatever fun the guys are having in their room. And besides, it’s totally heteronormative.”

Bucky shrugged as if he was conceding her point, but it was Steve who replied. 

“Fair enough. Long as you don’t give Fury any reason to get himself in a tizzy.”

“Fury’s never gonna know unless you narc,” Jan said. She was smiling though, so it wasn’t quite as pointed as her other comments.

“The rules are here so we all have a good time and stay safe,” Bucky said kindly. “As long as we’re all having a good time and everybody’s safe, Steve and I aren’t going to go out of our way looking for trouble.”

Steve smirked, and Tony felt a pang in his chest at just what a good look mischief was on him. (Though, to be honest, just about anything was probably a good look on him. That boy was _fiiiiiine_. Tony just happened to have a weak spot for mischief.) It didn’t help at all when Steve spoke a second later.

“Course not,” Steve said. “Never have to look for trouble, because trouble finds us, all on its own.”

***

Opening dinner was always a huge affair. For all Director Fury’s gruffness, he had a definite flair for the dramatic, and it was on full display the first night of camp.

That was only ever a good thing in Steve’s mind. He still remembered his very first night at camp with crystal clarity, and it was fun to watch the campers walk into the dining hall and stare around in wonder.

The windows were covered so the room was dark, except for loads and loads and loads of candles around the outer walls and some battery-operated lanterns on the tables. It gave the room a magical kind of glow that brought all the focus onto the piles of food that waited to be eaten.

It probably wasn’t meant to be romantic, but it was kind of that, too, judging by the eyes Bucky and Clint were making at each other when Bucky and Steve walked in. Clint practically tripped over his own feet to get to them.

“Mind if I sit with your cabin tonight?” Clint asked.

Counselors always sat with the campers, so the answer was going to be yes, but the way Clint was asking it made Steve roll his eyes.

“Are you sittin’ at our table or asking him to prom, Barton?” Steve asked.

“Shut up, you little shit,” Bucky hissed.

“Nothing little about me anymore,” Steve teased, and then took several quick steps toward the table to put himself out of reach of Bucky’s feet. They’d gotten extremely good at hiding any rough-housing between the two of them, but a good heelie or shin-jab could be done with super stealth.

And since those things were actually a lot easier for Bucky to accomplish once they were seated, Steve plopped down at the table with little regard for where he sat except that it would be out of Bucky’s striking range.

It was only once his butt was on the bench that he realized the spot was a little narrow and it put him squished between Tony and Peter, half-falling into Tony’s lap.

“Geezus,” Tony complained, before turning to see who’d jostled him. “People pay big money for a lap dance like tha–”

Tony cut off his words when he shifted and realized it was Steve.

“Is this some kind of hazing?” Tony asked instead.

Stupidly, Steve didn’t answer for an awkwardly long time, because in that instant he’d not seen much of anything but the hundred candles reflected in Tony’s eyes. When he did pull away and shift back (against Peter, who didn’t seem to notice at all), he realized Tony’s expression wasn’t teasing. Or amused. He looked suspicious.

It made Steve wonder if hazing was something Tony’d come to expect.

“Not hazing. Trying to get away from Bucky. He was _easy-housing_ in my direction.”

Tony snorted. “It’s called _gentle_ -housing, Captain Spoilsport.”

He said it with a teasing tone and an elbow in Steve’s ribs, and it was clear it was meant light-heartedly, but the words still cut. Was that what Tony thought of him? That he was a spoilsport? Or was Tony just mirroring how Jan had referred to him earlier? 

Tony didn’t know about the camp names yet, Steve realized as Director Fury strode into the room and took his spot at the podium.

“Campers,” Fury said, his voice forceful and loud enough to startle everyone into silence. With everyone’s attention on him, he continued, “welcome to the Mighty Avenger Adventure Camp. I trust you all found your cabins alright, since obviously you wouldn’t be sitting with them otherwise.”

A quiet giggle went around the room.

“All present and accounted for, sir!” Clint called out, and Fury acknowledged with a nod.

“Good. I do hate it when we lose someone on the first day. Really, save that for Survival Week. Now, for those of you who are here for the first time - and there’s quite a few of you this year - we’ve got some things to cover. You’ve probably all spent the last few weeks memorizing the brochure in your excitement to come here-” 

Peter and Kamala probably had, maybe also Rhodey, Steve surmised, but he was quite sure Tony hadn’t looked at it once.

“But in case you haven’t,” Fury leveled his gaze at Tony, who seemed to shrink under the attention, “you should know that you have two weeks to master the ropes course, archery, field cooking, paddling and all those other fun skills the counselors will try to impart to you, because after that, you’re getting turned out on your behinds in the middle of the woods with only your wits and skills - and, if you’re lucky, the benevolence of your CITs - to get you home.”

Next to Steve, Peter shifted in his seat. The boy looked more than a little concerned about the idea of being left in the woods. Steve was about to offer him some consolation when he saw Jan, sitting on Peter’s other side, reach over and mess his hair. “Don’t worry,” she reassured him quietly, “Cap and Buck’ll make sure we all get home safe.”

A warm feeling of happiness spread through Steve. It wasn’t too long ago that Jan had been that little concerned camper. Yeah, Steve was pretty proud of how far his group had come. He had a good feeling for this year, too.

Fury had moved on from detailing Survival Week to warnings about unsupervised swimming in Lake Crescent or hiking in the forest that skirted camp. Steve tried but failed to hide a smile as he thought of all the times he and the other campers had flouted _that_ rule.

Like that time he and Peggy had swum out to the pontoon on the lake at midnight on one particularly warm night two years ago and shared their first kiss. He’d been laid up with bronchitis for the rest of the summer, of course, but his lips still tingled when he thought of it, which had more than made up for all the coughing.

She’d moved back to England during that school year. It still felt to Steve like something was missing when he looked over to the table where the campers in Ultimate Lodge sat. 

“... your identity while you are here at camp. Choose it well, wear it proudly.”

Fury’s words pulled him out of his memories. Oh good, he was at the part about camp names. That was Steve’s favorite part. It was always interesting to hear what the campers came up with, since camp names were such a reflection of who the kids were, and who they wanted to be.

“A special name for camp? That’s … odd,” Tony was remarking, clearly unenthused.

“Like a nickname?” Peter asked.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, kind of like a nickname. You can choose to have everyone call you that, or just go by your regular name, it’s up to you. But I think it helps shape what you get out of the camp experience, how closely you identify with your name.”

***

Camp names. It sounded like a crock of horse dung, if you asked Tony. Geez, he had enough trouble reconciling with his actual name, why the hell did he need another one?

Then again, maybe going by some alter ego would help him hide the whole Stark thing.

“What’s your camp name, then?” he asked Steve, who was still practically sitting in his lap. Which was definitely _not_ doing funny things to Tony’s insides. Goddammit, those shoulders were way too wide for a bench this narrow and crowded. “Not Captain Spoilsport, is it?”

“Captain America.”

“Really?” Tony raised an eyebrow. “How patriotic.”

Steve looked like he was about to explain how he ended up with the name, but Jan beat him to the punch.

“Steve was always good at getting others to follow his lead, even before Fury made him a CIT. And his birthday’s on the fourth of July, so …”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh. “Geez, that is patriotic. What about you, Jan?”

Jan smirked and pointed to a little pin on the collar of her blouse. It looked like a bumblebee, maybe?

“I’m Wasp,” she informed him proudly.

“Because you’re pesky and drawn to sweets and everyone tries to swat you away?”

“Because I’m small but I pack a punch!” she corrected, kicking at Tony’s shins under the table.

“Hey now!” Tony yelped, feigning injury. “Rough-housing! Rough-housing! Someone call the Captain!”

Steve shot him a glare, but there was a glimmer in his eye that reassured Tony that it was all in good fun. Just before Steve shifted in his seat enough to knock Tony off the bench.

“Oy!” Tony yelped.

“Since Excelsior Lodge has clearly already discussed their names,” Director Fury said, his tone louder than usual and - if possible - even more imposing, “they can share them now with the rest of us.”

Steve rose to his feet, his ears red in a way that Tony definitely did not find adorable. No, no way. Tony was _not_ going to end up one of those camp stereotypes who had a raging crush on their counselor. Steve reached down to help Tony up and back onto the bench (okay, yeah, stereotype) as he cleared his throat.

“Yes, sir. Well, I’ll introduce myself to everyone - I’m Captain America.”

Bucky rose next as Steve sat again. “I’m the Winter Soldier.”

Jan introduced herself next, followed by Sam, who apparently went by the name Falcon. 

Then everyone was looking at Tony. Who froze.

“I’m-” he started, unable to find words. He had no idea who he was, let alone who he wanted to be.

Rhodey, good ol’ Rhodey, sprang to his feet. “I’m War Machine!” he announced loudly, all heads turning to him instead. He shrugged as he sat again. “I wanna go into the Air Force after I’m done with school,” he explained more quietly.

It was Peter who jumped up next, declaring “I’m Spider-Man!”

Kamala declared herself Ms. Marvel, which caused a bit of a stir since apparently there was already a Captain Marvel, a tall blonde girl in Ultimate Lodge, but Fury ruled that it was alright, she could have the name if she wanted it. 

“There’s two Hawkeyes, after all,” he pointed out, glancing over to Clint, who shrugged unapologetically.

“Hawkeye is a title of honor, and Kate won the right to it, fair and square,” he said. “I’m Hawkguy.”

There was bound to be a story behind that, and Tony made a note to find out.

Except all eyes were back on him again, now that everyone else in his cabin had announced their names.

“I’m-” Tony floundered again. He tried to think of what made him happiest, and the first thing that came to mind was that stupid robot he’d built. He looked down at his hand, at the scar he’d gotten from welding when he had possibly been too tired to be welding. He thought about the look on his father’s face when he’d collected Tony from the hospital after that incident, and of his father’s words about why he was sending Tony to camp - “Might make a man out of you.”

Tony looked up, at Fury, at the campers looking at him, at Steve. He took in the way Steve’s eyes shone in the candlelight, and he thought about the way that sight made his heart beat just a smidge faster. 

Confidently, he declared, “I am Iron Man.”

***

The rest of the dinner went quickly. If Steve had any complaint about camp at all, it was the speed at which time moved forward. If it was up to him, they’d be there all twelve weeks of summer and he would want every single day to go by as a crawl.

That’s not how the world worked, though, and dinner was over in the blink of an eye, as was the walk back to the cabin. He and Bucky had stayed pretty quiet, giving the campers a chance to try out their new names and they walked several yards behind their noisy group.

“Wasp, Falcon, Ms. Marvel, Spider Man, Iron Man, War Machine,” Bucky said in a low voice, meant only for Steve’s ears. “Not bad.”

“Not bad at all,” Steve agreed. “I was a little worried Tony wasn’t going to go with it. I think we’re going to have to be careful there.”

Bucky stopped walking. “Why?”

“Just something he said at dinner. Asked if I was hazing him in a way that sounded like he’s overly familiar with the concept.”

“Think he gets bullied at school?” Bucky asked. “Or wait– he’s in college, right?”

Steve glanced up ahead. Tony was bouncing along between Jan and Rhodey and looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Miss Potts had mentioned that one of their campers had skipped a few grades and was already in college, which seemed both impressive and worrisome - Steve was going into his senior year of high school, so he’d done a few college visits in the past year. It seemed like a lot of things happened at college that might be difficult to deal with at fifteen or sixteen.

“Yeah, he’s the one.”

“I’ll be careful not to tease him too much,” Bucky agrees. “And I’ll warn Clint. Wouldn’t want Captain America to have to box me upside the ears in his haste to look after the little guy.”

“He isn’t _that_ little,” Steve protested.

“Not like you were,” Bucky teased. He gave Steve a nudge and Steve bumped him back significantly harder.

Tony and Rhodey definitely weren’t the only ones at the camp who flaunted the rough-housing rule. But Bucky and Steve had learned to save it for when no one was looking.

They got to the cabin, and of course the first thing that happened was that Jan followed Tony and Rhodey right into their room. 

“You plannin’ on sleeping in there as part of your protest?” Steve asked her.

“No,” Jan said. “The bunks are too small, and there is _no way_ I’m sleeping on the floor. But we’re gonna stay up and talk for a bit. No orgies, I promise.”

Bucky and Steve both busted up laughing at the sincerity in her expression.

“God, you're trouble,” Bucky sighed.

“Nope,” Jan said. “Trouble’s my middle name.”

“Weird!” Tony chimed in. “Same as mine!”

***

“What the hell kind of weird-ass summer camp is this that drops a bunch of teenagers into the middle of the woods and leaves them to their own devices, and worse - makes them get up so damn _early_?” Tony groaned into his pillow.

“The kind that wants to turn us into self-sufficient adults,” Rhodey replied matter-of-factly as he pulled Tony’s blanket away.

“Gaaaaah!” Tony curled up into a tighter ball, trying to catch the last bit of warmth that lingered in his far-too-narrow bed. 

There were footsteps as Rhodey moved around the room, and then a towel thrown at Tony’s head. 

“C’mon, _Iron Man_ , you heard Bucky yesterday - skipping breakfast is a bad idea.”

Footsteps again, followed by the door to their room opening and closing, then blissful silence. Tony cracked open one eye. Rhodey must have gone to shower. He considered curling up again, but his blanket was on the other side of the room and if breakfast was anything like yesterday’s dinner, he probably didn’t want to miss that.

With a sigh, he pushed himself out of bed, gathered his shower caddy and towel, and slipped into his flip-flops before heading to the showers.

***

Barnes wasn’t lying. Combining hunger with the high ropes course would have been a nightmare. Tony’d figured it would be like climbing a ladder. A big ladder, sure, but not anything too overly difficult.

Boy, when he was wrong, he was _really_ wrong.

The ropes course was legit. Of course it didn’t help that his cabin was in a constant (unspoken) competition to see who could climb the fastest, and that trying to keep up with a kid who called himself Spider-Man was the equivalent of trying to race a mountain goat up the Alps.

All of it meant that by the time Tony was up at the top, all he wanted to do was lie down on the platform, stare at the sky and not move until the sun went down. His biggest consolation was that Rhodey and Jan weren’t doing much better, and they’d both flopped down next to Tony as Peter dashed from side to side, staring out over the camp and narrating what he saw.

“How is he still moving?” Rhodey asked.

“Someone needs to check to make sure he’s really human,” Tony rambled in reply. “I’m pretty sure you’d need to be half lemur to get up the ropes like that.”

“Good job, Spider-Man,” Bucky praised. “You want to go first since your cabin-mates need a breather?”

“No, it’s okay,” Peter said with a shake of his head. “Tony can go first.”

“Well, you heard him, Iron Man,” Bucky said, an amused smile on his face as he pulled the rope they were supposed to use to zip over to the next platform loose from where it had been tied up.

“Oh fuuuu–n-sized,” Tony caught himself, rising reluctantly to his feet. “Yeah, sure. I can do this.”

He was trying to convince himself of that fact just as much as the others. It was just - the platform they were on was _really_ high, and the one he had to reach was really far away. It’s not that Tony was scared, but he did have (more than) a basic understanding of physics and could calculate the great deal of pain he would be in if his hands slipped and he fell.

He took the rope from Bucky, wiping his palms dry just to be on the safe side, and gulped. “Well, here goes nothing.”

With that, he stepped off the platform.

There were a few milliseconds of freefall that felt like an eternity, and then Tony was swinging through the air, wind rushing over his face as he zoomed through the trees.

It felt like flying. He’d never experienced such a rush before in his life. He let out a loud whoop, not even conscious he was doing it at first, and then another just cuz it was fun and this was awesome. Tony’s feet touched down on the opposite platform, and all he wanted to do was turn around and do it again. His heart was pounding, his knees shaking a little, but he felt _magnificent_.

He was so wrapped up in the thrill of flight, it took him a second to realize his campmates were whooping and cheering behind him.

“That was awesome!” Rhodey yelled.

“You’re a natural!” Bucky called down.

Tony was more touched than he’d ever want to let on. Sure, he got plenty of accolades for being a genius and all, but they were always from adults. This was different. Way different.

He beamed back up at them and waved.

“Me next!” Rhodey, Peter and Jan all attempted dibs at once.

Tony moved aside to wait for his friends and basked in the warm sunshine as he looked out over the trees.

Three weeks probably wasn’t going to be enough.

***

Steve dragged himself to his and Bucky’s room after dinner, closed the door and let out a long groan before collapsing into bed.

“Tired?” 

Steve lifted his head just far enough to glance over to the bed on the other side of the room. Hmmm. He’d made sure the door was closed so no campers would hear him but hadn’t checked to see if anyone else was in his room. Oops.

Well, it didn’t look like he’d walked in on anything too scandalous, judging by the way Bucky and Clint were sitting cross-legged on the bed, their backs against the wall. 

Steve let his head flop into his pillow again. “You have no idea.”

Clint laughed. “Yeah, I have no idea how tiring chasing a bunch of unruly campers around all day can be,” he deadpanned. “Haven’t been doing that for the last three years of my life. Especially not a pair of mischievous know-it-alls who are either looking for trouble or just _happen_ to find it wherever they go.”

Steve just let out another groan. Clint had a point - he and Bucky had been absolute shits as campers. He still wasn’t sure what the hell Fury had been thinking when he’d offered them the positions as counselors-in-training, since they hadn’t exactly been model campers. 

_The Mighty Avenger Adventure Camp is all about finding out who you want to be,_ Fury had told Steve and Bucky on their final day of camp the summer before. They’d just finished Survival Week, they hadn’t showered in a few days, and the lunch buffet was practically calling their names, but Steve still remembered every detail like it was yesterday. _Sometimes that just takes a little longer. And I’m willing to bet you’ll be able to help some others along the way while you’re still finding it out._

So here they were, helping others find out who they want to be while trying to figure it out themselves. It seemed like a lofty goal, and Steve couldn’t help but wonder sometimes if anyone ever actually achieved it. He was pretty sure Clint hadn’t figured it out yet. There were days he thought he had it figured out, but just as many where he had no idea.

Either way, it was exhausting.

***

By the time Lights Out came around, Rhodey, Jan, Sam and Tony were all collapsed on their backs on Rhodey’s twin bed. Their legs hung over the sides as they stared at the ceiling.

“I’m so sore,” Rhodey groaned. “I have never been this sore.”

“Maybe you should have put down the bow and arrow after first session and not gone back during free time,” Jan pointed out.

“Maybe. But how’m’I going to get good if I don’t work at it?”

“Rhodey doesn’t do anything half-assed,” Tony said. He was proud of Rhodey for that. Sometimes it was annoying, but it always meant Tony’s best friend was gonna be the best at just about anything he tried.

“How are you two even friends?” Sam laughed.

“What do you mean, how are they friends?” Jan asked.

Tony wasn’t sure what in him inspired Jan to be so protective, but she jumped to his defense at the smallest perceived slight. Even with Sam, whose hand she was holding.

“You’ve never seen Iron Man’s YouTube videos,” Sam said. “Like– he could build perfect robots if he wanted, but they’re all kind of half-effort. That’s what makes them hilarious. There’s this one where a robot is supposed to extinguish a flame, but instead by the time it’s done, the candle is the only thing in the room not covered in foam. Including Tony. It’s awesome.”

“Awesome, yeah,” Tony said. “But not easy. Half-assing it would have been programing it to spray the candle. Anybody could do that. It took me days to program Dum-E to avoid the fire. What I put on YouTube was take–”

“Twenty-one,” Rhodey supplied. “And guess who was stuck with the mop?”

“I helped,” Tony protested. “I made that clean-up robot!”

“Roomba Joe? Roomba Joe is a demon, Tony.”

Jan and Sam giggled at their friends’ antics, and it got Tony and Rhodey laughing too.

“Want to try and build something?” Sam asked. “I bet if we went to Arts and Crafts on Thursday, Steve would let us use whatever we could scavenge.”

Tony nodded absently. His brain went absent any time anybody mentioned Steve. Or when Steve was in front of him. Or when no one mentioned Steve at all and Steve was out of sight and Tony’s brain just decided that was where it wanted to focus.

“Sure. Sounds good.”

“This I’ve gotta see,” Jan said. “You coming with us, War Machine?”

“Nope. I’m still going for my bull’s-eye. You three can set that Arts and Crafts building on fire just fine without my help.”

***

“... and we have some paint in the back if you want to make a sign for your bunk with your camp name, and over by the window is a bin with wire and some old coffee cans and whatnot for …” Steve shrugged. “For whatever you can come up with, I guess.”

There was an impish look to Falcon, Wasp and Iron Man when he pointed out the metal bin. Steve couldn’t say what those three were planning, but he had a feeling it was Trouble.

He would have liked to keep a closer eye on them during the arts and crafts hour, but two of the first-year campers from the other lodges, one called Hellcat and one called Squirrel Girl, had gotten in quite the squabble over some boondoggle. When he did manage to glance over, though, he’d see Tony bent over a pile of metal, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked, with Sam and Jan egging him on or working on their own projects.

It’s not that Steve kept looking over because he felt drawn to Tony or anything. No, that would be inappropriate. Steve was his CIT, after all. That put him in a position of authority, and therefore any sort of … entanglement was completely off the table. A no-go.

_Hasn’t stopped Clint and Bucky_ a voice in the back of his head niggled.

No, that was different, he told himself. They’ve known each other so long, and neither of them was a camper anymore. Besides, he didn’t know for certain if something even was going on between them. (Maybe he should just _ask_ Bucky if something was going on. They’re best friends, after all. Best friends should talk about these things.)

“Here, I made him a hat!” Jan’s voice broke through the hum of activity in the room, and just about everyone turned towards her - everyone except Tony, that is, who was focused entirely on what appeared to be a tiny trebuchet in front of him. 

“Ooops,” Jan said more quietly when she realized everyone was looking at her. “I did it again, didn’t I? The yelling thing?”

Steve nodded. “Little bit. So what is it? It looks like a trebuchet.”

“It is a trebuchet,” Tony replied matter-of-factly. 

“It’s the Tennis Ball Flinger 2000,” Sam supplied as Tony carried the contraption through the door and set it on the ground outside. The crafts group, sufficiently curious about the device, followed. “Keeping slobbery, overly persistent yellow labs entertained has just been outsourced.”

“No one will ever criticize your throwing technique again with one of these bad boys,” Tony remarked as he loaded a ball of rubber bands into the sling. He pulled back a lever that tightened the drawstring, notching the sling into place.

“I throw like a girl,” Jan said with a giggle as she hopped up to sit on a picnic table. Steve shot her a Look which was meant to convey that she should get down. She pointedly ignored it.

“That’s because you _are_ a girl,” Sam pointed out, fondness in his voice.

Jan preened. “Exactly.”

“She throws way better than I do,” Sam added, brushing his fingers over Jan’s hand as he passed by on his way to where Tony and the device stood. “All set?”

Tony nodded, and Sam pulled out a smartphone and started filming.

“This is Tenni-”

“Hey, you’re not supposed to have phones!” Steve objected.

Tony turned his gaze from the camera to Steve (Steve tried and failed to ignore the way his pulse quickened). “It is _essential_ to properly document the testing phase. For science.”

He looked so sincerely serious that Steve couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, if it’s for _science_ , then I guess we’ll have to allow it. But don’t let me see it again,” he added with a wink.

“Of course not,” Tony shot back with a wink of his own before turning back to the camera. “As I was saying, Tennis Ball Flinger 2000, test one.”

He leaned down and squeezed the trigger, releasing the draw string. The counterweight swung back as the sling whipped around, releasing the ball. The group watched in raptured silence as the ball sailed through the air, over a small maple, clear across the field behind the arts and crafts building towards–

“Aw shit!”

Sam’s words were the last thing Steve heard before the crash of breaking glass.

“Was that–-?” Tony asked.

“Fury’s going to _kill_ us,” Jan said quietly.

“Fury’s not going to kill us,” Sam said. “He always says that’s too much paperwork. It’s gonna be worse.”

“Worse than death?” Tony asked.

“Oh no,” Jan said, a dawning horror apparent on her face. “Not Pot Lickers.”

“Pot Lickers,” Sam confirmed.

They both looked to Steve. Tony didn’t, though. Tony continued to stare at his friends like they’d lost their minds.

“Pot Licker is a rude term for the people who have to help scrub the dishes after meals and we aren’t supposed to use it,” Steve explained. “We’re supposed to call it dish duty.”

“Yeah, cause all that nasty, dirty food looks like doody,” Sam said.

Which made Jan giggle, even as she elbowed him in the stomach.

“You guys shouldn’t have to do that,” Tony said. “I built the trebuchet. I’m the one who fired it. I broke the window. I’ll lick the stupid pots. Just let me take the blame myself.”

He sounded so sincere and urgent about it, Steve couldn’t help but feel proud. He’d never have guessed from their first meeting that Tony’d be the type to take one for the team. But he sounded absolutely determined.

“Absolutely not,” Jan said. “One for all, and all for one.”

“Yeah, man. There is no way we’re ditching out on you,” Sam said. “Besides– this is gonna make the best story ever when I get back to school.”

A golf cart appeared in the distance, and a very intense Director Fury was behind the wheel. He cut across the ball field and rolled to a stop next to the Tennis Ball Flinger 2000.

“Do I even need to ask?” Fury asked.

Steve had seen Fury angry before and this was definitely not that. If Steve was judging correctly, it looked a lot like Fury was vaguely impressed.

“It’s my fault,” Steve said. “I was in charge of Arts and Crafts. This was my responsibility.”

Tony, Sam and Jan all protested at once.

***

“God, this _sucks_!” Tony heaved another pot into the sink, trying and failing to not slosh dish water over himself and Steve in the process. “Maybe licking would be easier…”

That earned him a chuckle from Steve (which almost-but-not-quite made all this worthwhile, Tony decided).

 

“You know-”

“Hush now, Rogers,” Tony interrupted. He knew what Steve was about to say. That he could have gotten out of it, that Steve should be the only one on Pot Licker duty because Steve, as the counselor (in training) in charge at the time should bear the responsibility. They’d been through this. It was getting old.

Truth was, Tony should have known that a rubber band ball was going to have a different trajectory than an actual tennis ball. Tony should have been more careful with the mental math. Truth was, he’d been distracted. Too busy basking in the attention. Specifically, Steve’s attention. 

Truth was, Tony should have been the only one condemned to pot scrubbing. He was glad he’d at least been able to convince Sam and Jan to accept the “lighter sentence” of raking the walkways and sweeping the cabin porches. Steve had been insistent, though, so here they were, side by side, elbow-deep in soap suds.

Truth was, Tony wasn’t even upset.

He snuck a glance at Steve, whose brow was furrowed as he scrubbed at a particularly stubborn spot. Steve’s bicep flexed with each movement, stretching at the thin fabric of his too-tight t-shirt. Tony gulped, trying to clear the lump in his throat. Damn Steve and his shirts that were all at least one size too small.

_He’s your counselor_ , Tony reminded himself. Well, okay, counselor-in-training, not a full counselor yet, but still a proverbial Forbidden Fruit.

Besides, Steve was probably not even into guys. He probably had a gorgeous girlfriend back home who was just as tall and perfect as Steve, and they were probably going to get married and have beautiful, tall babies, and on Sundays they would take a stroll through the Botanical Gardens and–

“What the f–” Tony was pulled out of his thoughts by a spray of water directed at his face.

“Language!”

For a certified genius, it took an embarrassingly long time for Tony’s brain to process everything: wet shirt, water dripping down his nose, his faucet still open and water spilling over the edge of the pot he had been working on, Steve grinning from ear to ear, Steve teasing him for cursing, Steve laughing at the way Tony was sputtering.

This means war, Tony decided, and he picked up the closest projectile: a sopping wet sponge. 

“You’re gonna pay for that, Captain!”

The rest of the kitchen staff was long since gone, so they had plenty of room to stage their water battle. After five minutes, Tony was soaked to the bone and his ribs ached from laughter. He wasn’t sure he’d ever laughed so hard in his life. Or been so wet.

“Stop! Stop! I call for a truce!” Steve insisted.

“Afraid you’re going to lose?”

“Afraid we’re going to be here until breakfast mopping up the mess we made,” Steve groaned.

Tony looked around. Riiiiiight. He’d forgotten about the part where they were the clean-up crew.

“Truce accepted,” Tony agreed. “But I need a minute to catch my breath.”

Tony leaned against one of the cabinets and then slid down to the floor to lean back against it. Steve sat down right next to him.

“So, camp - what you expected?” Steve asked.

“I thought I would hate it,” Tony admitted. “I’m not used to being so wrong.”

“Except about rubber band ball trajectories,” Steve laughed. 

“Except about those,” Tony agreed, palming his face. “Should have known better.” 

He heard the slight hurt in his own voice and hoped Steve missed it. Apparently he didn’t because Steve gave him a nudge. “It was awesome.”

Tony nudged Steve back, “Thought you didn’t like gentle-housing?”

Steve bumped Tony a little harder. “Better?”

Tony swallowed hard. His whole side tingled with warmth. Then Steve turned to look at him–

The kitchen door flung open with a crash. Steve and Tony sprung apart as Bucky and Clint appeared.

“What’s takin’ you two so long?” Bucky asked. 

***

Bucky looked from Steve to Tony and back to Steve, whom he shot a questioning glare. Steve pointedly ignored him, jumping to his feet. 

“Faucet malfunction,” Tony replied, not at all serious. “Good thing there was an engineer on site to fix it. But, you know, gotta break some eggs if you wanna make omelets.”

“That doesn’t even make sense, Iron Man.”

Tony just patted Bucky on the chest as he walked past to fetch the mop. “Try not to think about it too hard, Frosty.”

Bucky looked perplexed, but that didn’t stop him from raising an eyebrow at Steve. Steve shrugged. Bucky smiled and shrugged as well. 

“Good chat, buddy,” Bucky said, tossing a towel at Steve. “Let’s get this cleaned up so we can get out of here. Clint’s building a fire down by the lake.”

Steve mirrored Bucky’s raised eyebrow, fighting a grin as he took the towel and started wiping up splashed soap. “You, in your glass house, shouldn’t go throwin’ any black kettles.”

***

Weekends were a little different at camp. Instead of the regular activity session, there were specialty sessions focused on a specific skill they would need for Survival Week. Tents needed to be folded properly, after all, and that had to be learned somewhere. And on Saturday night, there was a secret tradition that went back to when the camp started. In the beginning it was probably a lot like hazing, but over the years and with Director Fury’s oversight, it had turned into something a lot more innocent and fun: Snipe Hunting.

Snipes (at least the nocturnal, furry rodent snipes) are imaginary. But being out late, running through the woods to catch them, was the Director’s way of getting some of the more timid campers used to the dark of the woods at night. The whole experience gave a preview for the Survival Week that lay ahead, without any pressure.

All but the first-years knew it was coming and knew what to expect. That was definitely a big part of the fun. The other part of the fun was just _how_ good everyone was at keeping the tradition a secret.

Steve hadn’t heard a whisper about it through all of camp. So it was an awful lot of fun to do the big reveal after dinner.

The campers walked back to the cabin together, like always, but a huge box awaited them out on the porch.

“What’s that?” Rhodey asked, since he was the first up the step.

Jan looked up at the sky. “Oh my gosh– the snipes will be out tonight! It’s a snipe hunt!”

“Seriously?” Sam asked. “You’re right. Two days of hot, then a cool evening. It’s perfect.”

Their acting was so spot-on, Steve had to put his hand over his mouth to hide his smile.

“What’s a snipe?” Peter asked.

“Kind of like a groundhog,” Bucky replied matter-of-factly. “But smaller.”

“And faster,” Steve added.

“You’ve got to use flashlights to spot them,” Sam explained. “And then they freeze because they’re scared of the light so they’re easier to catch.”

Jan dropped to her knees in front of the box and started pulling out supplies.

“Only the counselors and CITs get the flashlights,” she said, sounding properly put-off. “The rest of us get burlap sacks.”

“When me or Bucky spot one, you just need to run to the light and bag it,” Steve added. “They like to hide in the woods, so it’s tricky.”

“Awesome!” Peter exclaimed. “We get to stay out after curfew?”

“Till the camp bell rings,” Steve said. “Then we all go up to the dining hall to see who caught what. And since we end up out so late, breakfast starts an hour later tomorrow, so we’ll get to sleep in.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Tony piped up. Steve shot him an eye-roll, at which Tony grinned impishly.

That boy was going to be the death of him.

But he wasn’t going to worry about his mortality tonight. Tonight was about chasing a group of campers through the woods, and it was going to be _awesome_ , because this year, he and Bucky were the ones with the flashlights. 

“I’ve got the power!” Bucky was singing quietly in a falsetto as he whipped the flashlight around to shine its light on random things. 

“Oooh, snipes!” Kamala squealed and scampered after the light.

Steve reached out to steady Bucky’s hand. “Not yet, Ms. Marvel. Snipes prefer the deep woods.”

“Oh, okay.” There was trepidation in her tone, which Steve could understand. She was a city kid, just like him, and the first time he’d been out snipe hunting, he’d been _terrified_ by the idea of going into the woods at night. Surely there were wolves and bears and lions out there, just waiting to eat them.

“Stick close to me and Sam on the way out,” Jan said, slipping her arm into Kamala’s so they could walk together deeper into the woods. 

As far as Steve knew, Jan had never been afraid of the dark. Even as a first-year camper she’d run through the black woods with reckless abandon. From the start it was obvious Peter was going to be just like Jan. He sprinted into the tree line without waiting for the flashlights. 

“Careful!” Steve called.

Bucky snorted on a laugh. “Softie.”

Steve laughed too. He couldn’t even deny it. He felt responsible for Peter– for all of them.

Tony and Rhodey had made it to the edge of the treeline and were whispering back and forth.

“What are you two troublemakers troublemaking?” Steve asked.

“Nothing,” they called in unison.

“Oh, that’s definitely ominous,” Steve said.

“Nothing to do but shine the lights and see what they do,” Bucky sighs.

What they did was rough-house their way through the woods, stumbling and shoving and laughing and diving for the snipe lights like their lives depended on catching the thing. Steve could only shake his head - every time he’d flip on the flashlight and Rhodey and Tony would shout like banshees and go running.

It got so noisy and rambunctious that other CITs started wandering closer, just to see what the ruckus was all about, and it was so funny watching Tony and Rhodey that no one bothered to scold them for all the rules they were probably (most definitely) breaking. As for Steve, he couldn’t help but think this is how Tony ought to be safe to feel more often.

Free.

The entire camp had exhausted themselves on laughter as midnight neared. For obvious reasons, no one had caught a snipe and still no campers seemed disappointed. When the camp bell rang, the campers and counselors all headed for the dining hall, Steve joined up with Clint and Bucky, who were walking very close.

“Think we should send them to the showers?” Bucky laughed, nodding toward Rhodey and Tony, who looked more like the love children of Bigfoot and the Jersey Devil than human teenagers.

“Iron Man! War Machine!” Clint called. “C’mere.”

He stopped under a light so they’d be able to get a better look at them.

It was even worse than Steve had thought. At some point in the night, Tony and Rhodey had clearly decided to use mud as camouflage. No natural amount of running through the woods would produce the streaky, smudgey patterns on their faces and arms.

“Not afraid of the woods at night then,” Clint said, shaking his head in amusement.

“Whatever’s in the woods ought to be afraid of _them_ ,” Bucky said. “There’s probably not a coyote left around here for at least a hundred miles.”

“That was kind of the point,” Tony says. “Well– at first.”

“And then it was just fun,” Rhodey beams. “We aren’t gonna be in trouble for being such a mess, will we?”

“Not at all,” Clint assures them. “If anything, you ought to win the Spirit of the Snipe Awards.”

“Is that a real thing?” Tony asked skeptically.

“Come to archery tomorrow and find out.”

Steve smiled at their antics but didn’t have anything to say. Mostly because he was busy trying _not_ to make an idiot of himself with a goofy smile or an overly fond look. Clearly Bucky and Clint already knew about Steve’s crush.

Tony didn’t need to know, though.

Jan called for her friends and Tony and Rhodey ran up to join her and Sam and that’s when Bucky gave Steve a nudge.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Steve turned to glare, though he couldn’t keep up any pretense of unhappiness for more than a few seconds.

“I didn’t have anything to say,” Steve protested.

“Except ‘Tony I like youuuuuuu,’” Bucky whispered, directly into his ear.

Which caused Steve to elbow Bucky in the ribs and Bucky to shove at Steve, all in good fun.

“Rough-housing!” Clint exclaimed, though in the gathering crowd, no one paid him any attention anyway.

“You know I can’t-” Steve didn’t bother finishing that sentence. There was no need, given the thin-lipped frown on Bucky’s face as Bucky’s gaze swept towards Clint. Yeah, Buck knew.

It was clear, as the camp assembled at their respective dining tables, that Tony and Rhodey’s enthusiasm really had given a boost to the spirits of the entire camp. Even Director Fury looked mildly pleased.

“Well, well, well,” he began, his commanding voice quieting the group quickly. It was impressive to see how quickly the campers stopped their chattering and took their seats. Fury looked into each of the burlap sacks, pretending to count how many snipes were inside. It looked surprisingly believable. He held up one particularly muddy sack. “What happened here?”

“Bilgesnipe!” Thor called, his voice echoing throughout the hall. “We found it in the drainage ditch. Nasty creature. Put up quite a fight.”

Fury let out a quiet chuckle and laid the sack down again before sweeping his trench coat back dramatically to put his hands in his pockets. “I must say, we’ve had a higher yield in past years. But quantity isn’t quality, and the dedication and commitment to catching these pesky creatures that I saw tonight - impressive. Commendable. Deserving of a reward.”

A murmur went through the tables and hushed again just as quickly when Fury raised a finger. “Don’t make me reconsider.”

He waved a hand, and a team of counselors wheeled out carts carrying giant vats of ice cream, an assortment of toppings, and bright blue bowls.

“Yay!” Jan squealed.

“Your dentist must be a very rich man,” Sam said with a grin.

“ _She_ loves me. But only because I am such a model flosser.”

Sam’s reply was drowned out by the clattering of spoons in bowls and the hum of conversation as campers put together their sundaes. Steve watched his group joking and laughing with one another as they dug into their ice cream, and he couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. They were a great group, and everyone was getting along well. Across the table, Tony had just nabbed a mini Oreo out of Jan’s bowl and grinning impishly at her protests.

“Yo, heart-eyes,” Bucky hissed, elbowing Steve to get his attention. “Quit staring and pass the whipped cream.”

“I am watching our campers. It’s our _job_. Here, you’re lucky I don’t squirt you with this.”

“I’ve heard that line before,” Clint said with a wicked grin, appearing suddenly behind Bucky.

Steve groaned and threw a cherry at Clint.

“Rough-housing!” Tony called from across the table.

“I hate you all,” Steve muttered, burying his face in his arms.

***

It was a good thing breakfast was an hour late because otherwise Tony would have been running on an empty stomach until lunch. It was all he could to drag himself to the dining hall on time, and that was only because Rhodey had dragged the blankets off Tony and then threatened to pour water on his head. It was enough of a threat that Tony had grudgingly pushed off the mattress and gotten himself ready.

He still wasn’t totally awake as he went through the line for waffles and he would have kicked a snipe-puppy if it got him a whole pot of coffee to himself.

What he got instead was a lap full of Jan.

“Hey,” Tony protested. “No smushing till after I’m awake.”

“It’s for science,” she whispered into his ear.

Which at least got his attention.

Tony (now feeling much more awake and a little like he had a sister on his lap) glanced over at Sam, who was very pointedly not looking at them. No, his face was turned down toward his breakfast, but his eyes kept going to Steve who was sitting down with Bucky and Clint on the other side of the dining hall.

Steve, who was very much not looking at Tony and Jan. Deliberately, obviously not looking at them.

Jan giggled and leaned in a little closer to run her hand through Tony’s hair.

“Hey, hands off the goods!” Rhodey protested, as he took the seat next to Tony and Jan.

“Wait– which one of us is the goods?” Tony asked.

Rhodey rolls his eyes. “You, Tones.”

“This is for science,” Jan said. “Sam is making important and _secret_ observations.”

Rhodey’s eyes followed Sam’s gaze and then he smirked. “Dudes. That hypothesis is confirmed. Thoroughly. Both ways.”

Jan tilted her head, considering. And then she smiled.

“Jan, no,” Tony said.

“Jan, yes,” she insisted, as she scooted off his lap.

Tony, Sam and Rhodey all watched with various degrees of interest as Jan walked her way over to Steve and Bucky. Though at least for Steve’s sake she didn’t sit down on his lap like she had on Tony’s. She just sat down right next to him, close enough that their sides were flush, and then she smiled up at him adoringly.

Sam and Rhodey both turned and stared at Tony with unhidden amusement watching for any reaction.

“Don’t be stupid. I know Jan’s not into him. And I _know_ he’s not into Jan,” Tony protested.

Steve laughed and the sounds of him _made_ Tony turn and look in his direction. Even knowing Jan was flirting with Steve to prove a point, he still felt a surge of jealousy that he couldn’t keep off his face.

“Science!” Sam cheered.

“Science,” Tony groaned.

Rhodey patted Tony on the arm consolingly. “You’ve still got a week.”

“Plus, his face when Jan was on your lap?” Sam pointed out. “It was the exact same face you just made when she was flirting with him. You’ve both got it bad.”

“How come it doesn’t bother you when Jan flirts with someone else?” Tony asked.

“I’m secure in our relationship,” Sam smirked. “And she’s told me repeatedly she thinks of both of you as brothers. This is all in the name of research.”

That all makes a lot of sense to Tony, even if he still feels like Steve’s interest is unconfirmed.

“You really think he might be interested?” Tony asked

“I think he’d be an idiot if he wasn’t,” Rhodey said. “And Captain America is not an idiot.”

Sam nodded. “Annnnnnd, he’s coming this way.”

Sure enough, Steve was walking toward them, carrying his plate of half-eaten breakfast. From where Jan was sitting, still with Bucky and Clint, she looked incredibly pleased with herself and Tony felt his stomach tighten. Had she _told_ Steve what she was doing?

“Mind if I join you?” Steve asked. “Jan said she needed to talk to Clint and Bucky alone about something personal and whatever it’s about– there’s just some stuff you can’t _un-know_ you know?”

“With Jan that’s a long list,” Sam agreed. “You’re welcome to join us, but me and Rhodey had just finished.”

“We absolutely had,” Rhodey agreed. Even though he still had plenty of food on his plate and it was an obvious lie.

Rhodey and Sam stood and hurried away before any of that could be pointed out to them.

Steve watched them go and didn’t look upset. Tony was about to apologize when Steve beat him to it.

“I’m sorry– if they’re bothering you,” Steve said. “Or if these feels like hazing of some sort. I’ll talk to Jan and Sam and tell them to knock it off.”

“What?” Tony asked. Because ... what?

“Pranks and practical jokes are kind of a part of camp life, and this seems like a set up, you know? I don’t think they mean anything bad– but I get the feeling hazing isn’t really your thing. And I can tell them to leave you alone,” Steve said firmly.

“Oh,” Tony says, when he realized Steve had no clue what’s going on, and had somehow misinterpreted all this into something it wasn’t. He should have corrected him right away, except– well, the part where Steve wanted to make sure Tony was okay was nice. Really, really nice. And the part where he cared enough that if it _had_ been a prank he would have intervened. “Thanks,” Tony said. “I can talk to them myself. I think they’re just being science dorks.”

“Okay,” Steve said. He sounded relieved on Tony’s behalf. “Guess there are worse starts to a prank than stranding us alone for breakfast.”

“That’s very true,” Tony agreed.

“Can I ask you something? And you don’t have to answer?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

“Is it hard– at MIT? Being younger than everyone else?”

“It sucks,” Tony said honestly. “I don’t– don’t have many friends there.”

He has zero friends there, but that’s too embarrassing to reveal.

“Rhodey and I talk every night, though.”

“Well, when camp’s done you’re not gonna have time to make new friends,” Steve said, with a smile that said he was teasing. “Seriously– once Jan has her phone back the selfies never stop. And Sam never saw a meme he didn’t feel like passing on. And I’d text you. If that’s something you wanted. We don’t have to lose touch when camp’s over.”

Tony smiled. “I’d like that.”

“Me too,” Steve agreed.

The Dining Bell rang with the five minute warning that breakfast was almost over.

“Better eat up,” Steve said. “No hot breakfasts during Survival Week.”

“Says you,” Tony teased. “Give me a couple soda cans, a shoelace, some gum and a magnifying glass and I’ll put together a waffle maker for the trail.”

“Knowing you, I almost believe it.”

***

“God, it’s hotter than a rat’s ass,” Taskmaster complained. 

It was Tuesday of the second week of camp, that mid-way point when the campers had settled in and were starting to get restless for something new. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, they’d had two days of stifling heat, the sun beating down on them as they went through their activities. The only reprieve was at the ropes course, which was shaded by virtue of being in the trees and offered a refreshing breeze as the campers zipped through the canopy.

Archery, on the other hand, was out in an open field, with nothing but a small shelter house to provide shade.

“How do you know how hot that is?” Jan asked as she pulled back her bowstring.

“Do you really want to know?” Taskmaster’s arrow found its mark in the ring to the right of the bull’s-eye. 

Jan’s was way off, on the top edge of the target. “Dammit,” she groaned.

“It’s the heat,” Tony explained matter-of-factly. “Less air density, arrows fly farther, so they drop later. Try aiming a little lower.”

Jan notched another arrow and nodded. This one hit the target with a thunk just left of the bull’s-eye. “Whoa, thanks Tony!”

Steve watched with a smile as Jan carefully laid her bow in the rack before practically pouncing on Tony to give him a hug.

“That was awesome!” she proclaimed, bouncing in Tony’s arms.

Tony chuckled softly, the sound enough to make Steve grin. It was great to see the campers getting along, Steve concluded. That’s what this was all about, after all - teaching teens to help each other.

Steve lurched forward as someone nudged him, and he turned to see Hawkeye standing beside him, his arms crossed and a knowing smile on his face.

“That obvious, huh?” Steve signed.

Clint let out a quiet laugh and uncrossed his arms to sign back “Fuck yes.”

“Words,” Steve replied with a mock-stern look. He and Bucky started learning sign language last summer and had picked up more as Clint had cemented himself in their lives, but Steve still regularly met the limits of his vocabulary. Clint would know what he was trying to say, though.

That much was clear from his smile as he reached over to ruffle Steve’s hair. “I know how you feel, buddy,” he said quietly. His gaze drifted across the field, where Bucky was leading a group of campers back from the ropes course. “Been there.”

“What do I do?”

The camp gong rang out, signaling the beginning of afternoon free time.

“Only thing you can do,” Clint replied. “Grab your swim trunks. Cold water helps.”

***

The water was cool and refreshing after being in the sun all morning. Tony had been leery about swimming in such dark water - he prefered to know what was in the water with him - but any hesitations he’d had were quickly washed away (ha!) as soon as he’d felt the cool water on his sweat-sticky skin. Hell, at this point he’d go swimming with Jaws if it meant no more sweating.

“There aren’t any sharks in here, are there?” he asked, just to be on the safe side.

“It’s a freshwater mountain lake,” Sam pointed out. “Of course not.”

“Clearly you haven’t seen Sharknado. What about other stuff? I heard Lake Champlain has its own Nessie - does this one, too?”

“Nessie isn’t real,” Peter added.

“Cryptozoology is a totally valid science, Spider-Boy, and we should totally take it seriously.”

A sheet of water hit Tony in the face as Peter splashed him, leaving Tony sputtering. 

“Don’t take the name of science in vain, Tony,” Peter reprimanded, the irony of the statement clearly lost on him. 

“You know, for a little guy, you’re surprisingly intimidating.”

Just about the whole camp had followed the siren call of the lake - Thor and Loki were having some sort of “I can swim faster than you” brotherly competition out in the deep water, Enchantress and Hellcat were perched on the diving platform that floated nearby. There was a water polo game on between most of Ultimate and Guardians Lodges - Star-Lord and Iron Fist were just exchanging a victory fistbump after one of them had scored a hoop.

Tony scanned the lake again. The only ones who were missing were Steve and Bucky, it seemed.

“I’m gonna do some laps,” Rhodey said, somewhere off to Tony’s left. Tony was just about to point out that he couldn’t do laps in a lake this size when turned to see War Machine swimming away, in what just _happened_ to be the direction of where Captain Marvel was. Carol, who he’d been making heart-eyes at all week. Smooth, Pooh Bear, real smooth.

There was a loud bark, followed by a splash, and Tony turned again to see Lucky leaping through the water after a tennis ball. Just behind him were Clint and Bucky, and just behind them-

Holy hell. If Tony had had any remaining doubts about being attracted to guys, they were definitely gone now. It was as if the world stopped, the sound of splashing and laughter suddenly silenced, and all the light from the sun shone directly on one Steven Rogers as he stepped out from behind Bucky.

How did one person end up with so much beauty? _How was that fair?!_

Broad shoulders tapered to a triangle at his waist, the lines of his abs disappearing under the band of his dark blue swim trunks. 

Tony found himself torn between wanting to lick the guy or to punch him in his stupid face because at least then, with a nice big shiner, he would have _some_ flaw.

A bit of sunburn around his massive biceps and on his neck - at least there was that. Except that didn’t really detract from his perfection, it just made Tony want to run up to Steve with a bottle of sunscreen and offer to help him rub it on.

Probably better to cut off this line of thinking before things got out of hand, Tony decided, shifting to swirl some more cold water around himself.

As if he could tell Tony needed the distraction, Lucky paddled over, the claws on his front paws grazing Tony’s leg before Tony’s brain kicked in again, and he had the wherewithal to swim out of the dog’s reach.

“Aw, Lucky, no,” Tony whined as the dog paddled after him, and what the hell, was Lucky herding him towards Steve?

Natasha had just swum over when Tony reached where Steve, Bucky and Clint were standing in the shallow water.

“Once this water polo game is over, it’s Excelsior versus Timely,” Natasha challenged.

Steve puffed out his chest (HOW IS THAT FAIR OR NECESSARY, STEVE) and folded his arms across his chest. “You’re on.”

“Timely’s going down,” Bucky added, mirroring Steve’s stance.

Tony watched as Steve and Bucky waded over to where the water polo game was being played, trash-talking with Natasha and T’Challa along the way. It wasn’t until they were deep enough in the water for only their heads to be visible that Tony realized Clint was still next to him, also watching the two CITs retreat.

“Never gets old, that view,” Clint said appreciatively. 

Tony just let out a huff, not quite ready to fully voice his agreement. “What’s with the Timely-Excelsior rivalry thing, anyway? Ultimate and Guardians seem to get along fine.”

Clint shrugged. “Started a few years back, kinda before my time here. Buck and Steve and Tasha, they all go to the same school, Brooklyn School for the Arts. Buck and Tasha dated for like, two months and I guess it was one of those epic, whirlwind high school romances where you swear undying love but then you realize, oh wait, I’m gay. You know how it goes. I guess this competitiveness, it’s kinda their way of saying ‘I still love you but not like that.’”

Tony couldn’t say that he had any experience with the kind of whirlwind love drama - or high-school dating at all, for that matter - so he just nodded. “So they tease because they care?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

A shrill whistle interrupted whatever Clint had been about to add, and Bucky called from across the lake “Excelsior! Timely! It’s on!”

Full-throttle, no-holds-barred water polo actually does very little to cool you down. By the end of the game, which Timely won by a narrow margin when T’Challa did some sort of impressive twirl/jump/flying thing to get past Kamala (who could make herself surprisingly large in front of the hoop) at the last second, Tony was out of breath, sweating despite being in fairly cold water, and beaming. His two scores and three assists hadn’t been enough to earn them a victory, but it had gotten him congratulatory pats on the shoulder from the team (and one long, lingering embrace from Steve, which was awesome). Not to mention bragging rights, since it was more than anyone else had scored.

Tony was feeling pretty good about himself as he climbed up onto the floating diving platform. The sun felt good now, burning off the drops of water running down his body. He let his feet dangle off the side of the platform and closed his eyes, taking in the sounds around him. He wanted to commit this day to memory.

“Mind if I join you?”

Steve’s voice cut through his thoughts, and Tony opened one eye to see Steve’s torso halfway up the platform ladder, the sun shining brightly behind him. 

Tony gestured to the space beside him. “It’s a free country. But I guess I don’t have to tell you that, Captain America.” It’s not like they were the only ones on the platform anyway - Kamala, Peter, Miles and Moon Girl were sitting on the other edge, having a discussion about a recent finding in theoretical physics that Tony had been trying _very_ hard to not get drawn in to.

Steve chuckled as he hauled himself the rest of the way up (damn, those biceps) and settled next to Tony. “Good game. You did good out there.”

“Well, Steven, I did _well_ out there. Geez. Poor grammar, so unpatriotic.” That earned him a splash. Fair enough. Tony lay back again, closing his eyes once more. “Clint told me Bucky and Natasha used to date?”

“Yeah, about two years ago. Didn’t last, though. But we’re all still friends.”

“And now Clint and Bucky …?” 

“I don’t even know what they are. I don’t think they do, to be honest. They’re _something_ , though, that’s for sure.”

“I thought campers and counselors is a no-go?”

Tony heard Steve moving and opened one eye to see Steve prop himself up on one elbow, facing Tony. Steve opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, seemed to reconsider, then paused before finally replying, “Technically, Bucky’s a counselor-in-training. But yeah, campers and counselors shouldn’t consort. I mean, it’s not like a written rule or anything, but it’s frowned upon.”

“Who even says ‘consort’ anymore, Steve?” Tony absolutely wasn’t deflecting. It’s not like he’d been hoping Steve would say no one cared about that sort of thing, as long as everyone was consenting and they weren’t, like, fourteen and twenty-five. Cuz that would be gross. But surely, two sixteen-year-olds would be alright. (Okay, Steve would be seventeen soon, but Tony was already in _college_ , so that had to count for something, right?!)

“It’s a perfectly valid term. People say that.”

Tony was saved from having to come up with a retort by the ringing of the gong. Whatever, it didn’t matter if it was a no-go or not - no stupid rule was going to keep him from enjoying the view as Steve dove back into the water like a freaking swan, came up a few yards from the platform and gave his hair a shake like in one of those shampoo commercials before calling to Tony, “Race you back to shore?”

And yeah, maybe Tony let Steve win just so he could revel in Steve’s big stupid grin and the way the muscles in his back (et cetera) moved as Steve waded out of the water ahead of him.

Look but don’t touch. Tony could live with that (if he had to).

***  
A slobbery tennis ball landed at Steve’s feet. Steve bent down to pick it up, wincing momentarily at its drool-soaked state before throwing it as far as he could. Lucky raced off after the ball with an excited bark, and just seconds later, the ball was at Steve’s feet again.

They’d been at it for a while already, but Lucky showed no signs of tiring. Steve’s shoulder, on the other hand, was starting to tighten up. He could definitely see now the benefits of having a tennis-ball-throwing trebuchet. The Tennis Ball Flinger 2000 was a brilliant invention, actually, and more so considering it had been made in under an hour with a bunch of spare parts.

No, Steve was not going to unpack those thoughts any further - the whole point of him coming out here during afternoon free time with Lucky was to clear his head with rote activity. Pick up ball, toss, wait for Lucky, pick up ball, toss.

“Hey, Cap, might be time to move on.”

Steve hadn’t heard Natasha approaching (she had a way of doing that), and he startled at the sound of her voice. 

She was holding out an almost-new tennis ball.

Steve looked down at the cracked remains of the ball in his hand. “Yeah, you’re probably right on that.”

The corner of Natasha’s mouth quirked with a smile. “Of course I am.” She signaled to Lucky to get his attention before tossing the new ball. “Something on your mind, Cap?”

“Always,” Steve replied with a smile. He’d been accused by his friends of overthinking things. Maybe they were right. “Thinking about how much the Excelsior group is going to kick Timely’s butt next week.”

Natasha let out a hearty laugh. “Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” She folded her arms and leveled a no-nonsense glare at him. It would have been intimidating if Steve didn’t know Natasha well enough to know she was kidding (mostly). “I’ve got T’Challa and Thor, two of the toughest guys at camp, the combined evil genius of Loki and Taskmaster, plus Kate, the best archer on the Eastern Seaboard - even Clint admits it - and Gwen and Hellcat, who can climb anything short of a stainless steel wall.”

Steve mirrored her stance, puffing himself up to his full height. “I’ve got Bucky, an expert ropesman, Sam and Jan, two of the most experienced campers here, plus Rhodey learns so quick you’d never guess it was his first time here. Same with Kamala, who’s probably the toughest fourteen-year-old you’ll ever meet, and Peter, who I’ve actually seen climb up a flagpole. And you want genius? We have _Tony_. Pretty sure he could build us a flying machine to get us to the rendezvous if we’d let him.”

They glared at each other for a minute, two. Lucky whined with bored anticipation, pushing the ball onto Steve’s feet, his tail thumping against Natasha’s leg. A hint of a smile spread over her face, then Steve’s, and finally, they burst out laughing.

Steve pulled Natasha into a tight hug. “Love you, Nat.”

She stood on her toes to ruffle his hair. “You too, you big oaf.”


	2. Survival Week

“This is cruel and unusual punishment. Someone check the books, please, I am pretty sure this kind of torture violates some form of convention or agreement or amendment or-”

“Shuddup, Stark,” Rhodey interrupted, shouldering past Tony, who had been dragging his feet on the way from the cabins to the vans that were waiting to take them into the woods, to snag a window seat.

“Why do you care if you get a window seat? It’s pitch black out.”

Rhodey bundled up his jacket and tucked it between the window and his head, shut his eyes and pretended to sleep. “So I don’t have to cuddle with you if I want to sleep.”

“Aww, why you gotta be like that, Sourpatch? I’m an excellent cuddler,” Tony pouted.

“I’ll leave it to others to find out,” Rhodey muttered.

“I volunteer as tribute!” Jan called, hopping into the van and taking the seat next to Tony. 

It was for the best, Steve decided. He should probably sit up front anyway, behind Clint, who was driving, and Bucky, who’d claimed shotgun.

It was a long drive and just after four in the morning, and most of the group opted to get a bit more sleep. That’s why Fury planned the beginning of Survival Week this way, after all - best way to ensure they had no idea where they were.

But not Steve. Oh no. He’d been pouring over Google Maps all year, preparing for this moment, committing the topography to memory. Fury took them to a different spot each year, sure, but it was always within a two-hour radius of camp. After ruling out locations from recent years and areas that were too close to civilization, Steve had narrowed it down to three possible areas Fury might be bringing them, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to sleep through finding out which it would be.

Hairy Elk Mountain, as it turned out. Not what Steve had expected - he’d have put his money on Ash Lake Wilderness, so it was a good thing he wasn’t a betting man.

“This one’s gonna be tough,” he whispered to Bucky, who was half-asleep in the passenger seat in front of him. “The mountain’s pretty steep, especially on the south side, and there’s a falls along the river. Wonder how Fury’s gonna set this up…” 

He turned his gaze out the window again, where the sky was slowly growing lighter. A few minutes later, the four vans led by Fury’s SUV pulled off the road onto a dirt path. There was a clearing at the top of the hill, where they stopped. Fury stood in the center of the clearing, hands in his pockets, his legs shoulder-width apart. A camp light behind him illuminated his trench coat as it blew lightly in the breeze. 

“Bad. Ass,” Steve heard Rhodey and Tony marvel in unison behind him. Steve didn’t bother trying to hide his smile.

“Welcome,” Fury boomed, and the campers immediately shushed, “to the Outdoor Challenge. Some of you may have heard this week referred to as Survival Week, some of you may have heard about a competition. I would like to reiterate at this time that there _are no winners or losers_.” Fury glared at Bucky, then Steve, then Natasha, and finally the crowd in general. “The point of this exercise is to put the skills you have acquired over the past two weeks to use in genuine outdoors situations. To do so, you and your team will make your way to the rendezvous point depicted on the map your counselor-in-training has just been given. You will determine your route together, you will stay with your group at all times, and you will exercise safe and respectful hiking practices. And you will not do stupid things just to get to the rendezvous a little faster than the other teams. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Director!” the campers mumbled, and the crowd dispersed as everyone went to collect their gear from the vans.

A few minutes later, the Excelsior group had their packs on and were just about all lined up and ready to go, except for Bucky, who was taking his time adjusting his boot laces over by the back of the van.

“Hey Buck,” Steve called, “time’s wasting!”

“Just gimme a sec, Cap!”

He disappeared behind the van, and that’s when Steve spotted another pair of feet there. Ah, that explained it.

“Well, see ya in five days,” he heard Bucky say.

“Take care of yourself out there,” Clint replied, his voice soft. “Come back to me in one piece.”

There was a quiet chuckle from Bucky, and after a moment he replied, “You got it, sweetheart.”

Steve quickly turned his attention to his own boot laces. He wanted to allow the two of them a moment of privacy (not that they could see him on the other side of the van), and he needed to think about something other than the stab of jealousy that ran through him. Not because he was envious of either of his friends - he was happy they’d found happiness in each other - but because it made him all the more aware of how much he wanted something like what Bucky and Clint had.

Well, maybe - just maybe - when Survival Week was survived and they all went home and they weren’t camper and counselor (in training) anymore, maybe he and Tony might be able to–

Steve pushed the thought aside. He could think about that next week. This week, he needed to focus on the route ahead. Because while Fury might have told them otherwise, there absolutely _was_ a competition to get to the rendezvous first, and Steve and his team absolutely _were_ going to win it.

Bucky appeared again from behind the van just in time to save Steve from his thoughts. He buckled the little strap on his pack that ran across his chest and looked up at Steve. “All set. Thanks for waiting. Lead the way, Captain!”

“Yeah, Captain!” Jan called out in agreement. The group milled around as Steve spread out the map from the folder Director Fury had given him. They listened intently as he explained the possible routes and the advantages and drawbacks of each.

“I say we take the rope bridge across the gorge and hike over the mountain.” 

It was nice to see the smallest, newest member of the group confident enough to speak up, and to see the rest of the group nod in agreement.

“Peter’s right,” Sam agreed. “We’ll be using each of our strengths to the fullest. Peter and Bucky are aces on ropes, so that’ll help with the rope bridge and the rock face. Jan’s great at finding her way in the woods, so that’ll keep us from getting lost. Plus it’s much shorter than taking boats, since those can only go to the falls and it’d be hiking from there anyway.”

“There’s huts we can overnight in on the mountain too,” Bucky added. “Beats setting up tents if it rains.”

“You’ve got my vote on that point,” Tony agreed.

“I like hiking,” Kamala piped up.

Steve nodded with a satisfied smile. He was proud of his team. “Great, then it’s decided.”

“To the trails, Team Excelsior!” Bucky called.

“Excelsior!” the group replied, and off they went.

***

***

Tony Stark was not afraid of heights.

He’d had a blast on the ropes course each day of camp after his initial hesitation, and with all the times his engineering projects required climbing up onto scaffolding (and maybe roofs, even if Tony maintained plausible deniability about his involvement in That Thing That Happened over at Stanford, no one could _prove_ he’d been there, thank you very much), Tony couldn’t afford to let something like vertigo get in his way.

Besides, _Stark men have no fear_ \- Howard’s words rang in Tony’s ears as he looked down at the water rushing through the gorge fifty feet below, and at the very, very thin cable spanning the distance to the other side. Half-inch cable, twenty feet. Cables winched into solid bedrock. Yeah, it would hold, definitely.

That didn’t make it any less terrifying. His would not be a “loose cable, swinging to his death” demise, it would be a “one misstep, plummeting to the depths” cessation. 

“They call it ‘downfall’ for a reason,” he muttered to himself as he toed the beginning of the cable carefully. At least there were cables on either side to hold onto. (“Of course there are cables,” the voice at the back of his head - the one part of his brain that actually remembered what it had learned in engineering seminars and many, many years of trial and error - reminded him, “Fury doesn’t expect you to be goddamn _trapeze artists_. It’s only called Survival Week cuz Fury’s a freaking drama queen.”)

“Come on, Tones, get a move on,” Rhodey said, prodding Tony’s backpack.

“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses, Pooh Bear,” Tony replied. To himself, he said, “Well, here goes nothing,” and he stepped out onto the cable.

Miraculously, he survived.

***

There was a time when Tony didn’t hate the rain. That time was every day of his life leading up until day two of survival week when all it did was rain. His boots were wet, his boxers were wet, his hair was wet-stuck to his forehead, and somehow– _somehow_ – it was still hot enough out that the few pieces of him that weren’t soaking wet from the rain were still sticky from sweat.

Hiking was the worst.

He was grumpy, too, because they hadn’t made it to a hut the night before, and he’d slept in a tent with Rhodey and the tent wasn’t entirely waterproof and maybe ... just maybe ... part of his mood was also related to Steve Rogers.

Or the quickly upcoming _lack_ of Steve in his day-to-day routine.

Sam and Jan’s science wouldn’t have stood up to scientific scrutiny, but Tony couldn’t deny that when Jan was flirting with Steve it had grated on his nerves. And Sam and Jan and Rhodey all insisted that when Jan was flirting with Tony, Steve couldn’t keep his eyes off them.

So the interest was there, Tony figured.

But time was not on their side.

And the rain just made everything worse.

“You okay, Iron Man?” Peter asked.

They were at the back of the group, mostly because Tony was trudging slowly, out of a spiteful misery aimed at the clouds, and Peter had taken it on himself to keep him company. Rhodey knew better than to try and have a fun time when Tony was in a bad mood.

“I’m fine,” Tony said. “Just hate the rain.”

“Really?” Peter asked. He looked genuinely surprised. Like it hadn’t occurred to him that hiking around in nature’s slip-and-slide could be anything but exhilarating. 

“Come on, back there,” Bucky shouted from the front. “We packed up those tents wet, so if we don’t get to the hut by dark, we’re all gonna be in a world of hurt.”

That threat was solid enough to get Tony’s butt in gear and he did quicken his pace. Peter did too.

He stayed up with the group as they climbed the side of the mountain. Mostly it was slick walking paths of mud, cutting through a sea of endless trees. The only indication they were gaining any height was the additional light he could see just below the canopy. A little more space at the top between the trees. But no doubt they were still a long way off from the top.

It was nearing dusk when they arrived at the huts. Tony couldn’t have been happier in that moment if they’d landed at the Ritz. 

There were four of them, and Jan immediately claimed one for herself and Kamala.

“You all _smell_ ,” Jan insisted. “And I need to just dry out in my bra and underwear for a while and I don’t need to be gawked at.”

Tony was relieved to realize Jan was just as cranky as he was. At least he wasn’t the only one. If he’d judged only by Peter he’d have thought every drop of rain was a new reason to be happy. And while Tony’d managed not to snap at Peter as they walked, he did want a few minutes to just be grumpy with Rhodey alone.

“Alright, everyone go get changed into something dry,” Steve told the group, his voice all Captain. “Don’t want anyone getting cold. You get cold, you do stupid things. Hypothermia is a real problem out here.” 

They took their time drying off, and Rhodey was feeling the need for some quiet too, so for about a half an hour after they changed into warm clothes and laid out their sleeping bags, they didn’t say much. It was nice. Exactly what Tony needed to go back outside and face another hour or two of everyone else.

His mood improved considerably when he realized Tony and Bucky had started a fire and the logs around it were already starting to dry. It was warmer, too, now that the rain had stopped. Between the heat from the campfire and the surrounding air, Tony felt much better as he went to gather some additional sticks to keep the fire going.

“Small ones work best,” Bucky reminded him. “The big stuff will be too wet to dry out, even if we leave it sitting close.”

It was an easy task. Sticks that were near the trunks of trees were almost entirely dry, and there were enough littered pieces of wood under the steps of the huts that they would be able to keep the fire going for quite a while with what Tony and Rhodey found.

Steve and Bucky had started heating up canned chili in a pot, and Tony could already smell the onions and the garlic and whatever else was in there. Probably something that would scandalize Jarvis, and might have even scandalized Tony a few weeks ago. At this point, something warm and filling was all it took for him to consider a meal a plus.

Jan and Kamala came out next, followed shortly by Sam and Peter, who’d been drawn out by the smell of dinner. Since Tony and Rhodey’d already helped out, they got to sit and watch while Jan and Kamala dug around in the packs for paper bowls and wooden spoons (that they could burn later, instead of needing to wash or bury) and Peter and Sam went to pump clean water out of the well nearby.

It was practically like being back in civilization.

Dinner brightened the mood further, and by the time they were finished, the conversation was flying back and forth and the night air was full of laughter.

“I know–” Jan said, once the sun had fully set, and there was no seeing anything outside the ring of light. “Let’s tell ghost stories.”

“Noooooo,” Kamala groaned. “Please no. I’ll never get to sleep.”

“What if we play truth or dare?” Sam suggested.

“Not much room to dare,” Bucky said.

“What if we talked about ourselves a little,” Peter said. “Like. Real stuff. Stuff no one else knows.”

“I’ll go first,” Jan volunteered.

She took a deep breath. 

“I didn’t think I was going to be able to come to camp this year because at home I’m grounded. I got accused of something I didn’t do, and I wouldn’t confess to it because I _didn’t do it_ , but my dad doesn’t believe me. The only reason I got to come was because Director Fury came all the way to my house and spent a whole dinner talking about personal responsibility. I think dad agreed I could come just because he didn’t think Fury was going to leave until he did.”

Tony couldn’t help but think that sounded both scary and awesome. And awful for Jan.

“My dad never believes me either,” Tony said sympathetically. “It sucks.”

Jan nodded. “It does.”

“I’ll go next,” Sam volunteered. “I helped save a kid’s life. I was doing the EMS program and they got called to a pool. Some guy about our age had jumped in to save his younger brother, but he wasn’t a strong swimmer, and then the lifeguard had pulled them both out, but the squad didn’t have enough hands so I got to help. It was scary– I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared in my life. But both of them lived. And I helped do that.”

“Holy shit,” Bucky said. “Good on you, man.”

The rest of the cabin agreed in hushed awe. Tony couldn’t even imagine it. He liked to think he’d be that brave, but he’d never been put to the test that way.

“I don’t fit in,” Kamala said quietly. “At school, I don’t have any friends. Not really. And at home, I don’t fit in there either. I don’t feel like I can really be myself in either place. I don’t know how to fix it.”

“I don’t fit in anywhere either,” Tony said. “I know I don’t have friends.”

“Hey!” Rhodey protested, elbowing Tony in the ribs.

“I mean at school,” Tony said. “People talk to me. People want to be seen with me. People want me to tutor them. But they don’t include me. And at home I might as well wear a dunce cap and a sign on my back that says “Constant Disappointment.”

“How is that possible?” Peter asked “You’re both awesome.”

“I’m with Peter on that one,” Steve says. “I believe you. I just don’t see how it’s possible. You’re two of the best people I’ve ever met.”

“Of course you’d say that,” Kamala insisted. “You have to like us. It’s your job.”

“It’s our job to make sure you have a safe time at camp,” Bucky pointed out. “We don’t have to like ya. Some of the CITs don’t like the people in their cabins. We just lucked out this year.”

“Awwww,” Jan cooed. “I can’t believe you’re such a schmoopy sap!”

“Am not,” Bucky growled. “And just for that I’m puttin’ a chipmunk in your sleeping bag when you fall asleep.”

“Jokes on you cause that chipmunk is more than welcome, and it’s gonna find a whole candy store worth of candy to fill its little jaws and save for the winter.”

“Maybe we should’ve called you squirrel girl,” Steve laughed. 

“I’d prefer Chipmunk Person, if you don’t mind,” Jan teased in return.

“Oh my gosh, just get back to the questions,” Sam interrupted. “I wanna hear Steve’s.”

All heads turned to Steve. He took a few seconds to think about it.

“My thing is that I carry an inhaler with me almost everywhere, even though I hate it and don’t really need it any more. When I think about not having it with me, my chest aches. My ma says it’s just anxiety, but I don’t like the feeling so I keep one in my pocket then I’m fine.”

Bucky patted Steve on the arm consolingly. “You keep it for as long as you need it.”

Steve nodded. “Thanks, Buck.”

“Mine’s not all that interesting,” Rhodey said. “But now that Tony’s not at my school anymore I’m number one in our class. And I wish I wasn’t. Rather’d have Tony back getting me in trouble.”

“Platypus,” Tony said. He wrapped an arm playfully around Rhodey’s shoulder. “You know I’m only a text away.”

“What are you going to do, Tones? Take the company jet to come visit me at lunch?” Rhodey asked.

“I’ve heard worse ideas,” Tony said with a shrug.

“Okay, who’s left?” Steve asked.

“Me,” Peter said. Then he didn’t say anything else.

“I’ve still got a turn too if you need a minute,” Bucky offered.

“No, it’s fine,” Peter said. “My Uncle Ben died two years ago. I lived with him and my Aunt May and now it’s just me and May. And my thing is that I think she’s really lonely, but I’m not ready for her to date yet. She asked me what I’d think about it, and I told her I didn’t want her to, and she said she was fine with that. She gave me a big hug. But now every Friday night when she’s home alone, I feel guilty. I want her to be happy. I just miss my Uncle, too.”

Peter probably wasn’t expecting the hug attack, but Jan all but launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around him, and then Sam quickly followed. Kamala joined in and then no one else could be left out, so Peter got the biggest group hug Tony had ever been a part of.

When they finally let him go, he was still quiet, but he didn’t stop smiling.

Which meant it was Bucky’s turn.

“Something hardly anyone knows?” Bucky asked. “Well-- Probably the biggest one is that ... I’m in love with Clint.”

“We knoooow,” Jan said.

“Fine. We’ve talked about it, and once camp is over, we’re going to try dating. Really dating.”

“We know!” Jan, Sam and Steve all said in unison.

Bucky glared them down. “Fine. Even though we’re young, and it wouldn’t happen for years, I can see myself marrying the guy.”

“We know!” the entire group shouted in unison.

“I hate all of you,” Bucky sulked. But he didn’t truly look unhappy. “Well, if you all know everything about everything, do you happen to know if Clint feels the same way?”

Steve put his arm around Bucky and yanked him close. “That’s a yes. We know that, too.”

 

***

Steve woke the next morning to the sound of scuffling footsteps outside their cabin. He was up in a flash, sitting up quickly enough to forget that he was in the bottom bunk. He was still rubbing his head when he opened the cabin door and saw that his campers had not only packed up all their gear and assembled around the (extinguished) firepit. 

“Hey, it’s Captain Sleepyhead!” Jan greeted, bouncing to her feet. Steve barely had time to register that she was headed his way by the time she’d launched herself around his neck. “Happy birthday, Cap!”

She didn’t let go, even when the others came over, and Steve ended up the center of what Tony declared was “an Excelsior clustercuddle.”

“Is something burning?” were not the words Steve was expecting to hear amongst the other birthday well-wishes.

“Oh dang it!” Rhodey called out, Tony parroting his words in a teasing tone as Rhodey darted back to the gas cooker. “It’s okay!” he called a few moments later, stirring whatever was in the pot.

“We made almond butter oatmeal!” Kamala declared, passing Steve a metal camp bowl full of steaming oatmeal - his favorite kind.

Steve shot a glance towards Bucky, who smirked unapologetically. “Yeah, I may or may not have had Wasp smuggle that in. C’mon, Stevie, can’t let your birthday go uncelebrated.”

A whiff of almond-buttery goodness swirled up to Steve’s nose. Rules be damned, this was awesome. Totally worth leaving camp a little later than planned for. Especially since they’d only be losing about ten minutes because the campers had already packed everything else up (under Bucky’s careful instruction, of course).

They really did have the best team, Steve mused as he licked the last bit of almondy oatmeal off his spoon.

He realized how that must look when he opened his eyes again and caught Tony watching him, his gaze transfixed. Heat shot through Steve’s body to collect in his ears, which felt as if they were on fire.

Tony looked away quickly, turning his attention to packing up the cooker instead. He stole another quick glance in Steve’s direction a few moments later, which Steve pretended not to notice.

Maybe it was best they get going …

***

Hiking was easier than it had been the day before, largely because it wasn’t raining but also because everyone seemed to be in a better mood. Steve couldn’t figure out why (he wasn’t conceited enough to think it was because it was _his_ birthday, or blindly patriotic to think it was because it was July 4th), but he wasn’t complaining - they reached the top of the mountain almost an hour before he’d calculated.

That left plenty of time to pitch their tents - there weren’t any cabins nearby, but the south side of the mountain was jagged, with a rocky outcrop near the top that was just big enough for all their tents.

Sam and Kamala split off to prepare dinner while the others got the campsite set up - the two of them had proven to be skilled camp cooks. Of course it helped that Tony, Sam and Rhodey had apparently built a DIY dehydrator and spent the past week nicking food from the cafeteria to dehydrate for their trek. Steve would be more upset - it certainly flew in the face of the “no food in the cabins” rule - if their mushroom-bacon-and-pea quinoa stir-fry weren’t so damn delicious. He was even willing to forgive Jan, incorrigible food smuggler that she was, when she pulled out a Snickers bar for everyone.

“Happy America Day!” she proclaimed, a facetious grin on her face as she caught Steve’s gaze. “Happy Steve Day!”

It was a mild evening - chilly for July, though that wasn’t too surprising considering their elevation and that it had rained the day before. The clouds were gone, though, and they had a spectacular view of the valley from the outcrop. Most of the group was busy washing the pots and dishes from dinner or getting cleaned up, so Steve wandered over to the ledge to take in the view.

“Yes,” a voice behind him said. Tony. “Yes, this is a fertile land and we shall thrive.” Steve didn’t turn around, and Tony was closer when he continued, “We shall rule over this land, and we shall call it … This Land.”

“I think we should call it YOUR GRAVE!” Steve said, turning suddenly to prod Tony in the ribs with both hands.

“Ah! Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!” Tony shrieked as he swatted at Steve’s arms ineffectively.

“Arrrrr-rrrrr-rrrr!”

“Rough-housing!” Tony protested quietly, and then Steve realized Tony had stopped squirming and they were standing, arms wrapped around each other. He looked down to see Tony’s eyes shining brightly in the pinkish light of the sun setting behind them over the valley, his smile broad enough to crinkle the edges of his eyes. One of Tony’s hands came up to rest on Steve’s chest, just over his heart. “Didn’t think you’d get that reference.”

“I love Firefly. I am a leaf on the wind, watch how I soar.”

Tony made a sound that was halfway between a whine and a sigh. “How are you so perfect, Steve?”

Steve was suddenly _very_ aware of how close they were, and how fast his heart was beating. It was almost like during the asthma attacks he used to get, except he didn’t feel like he was about to die. More like he was floating. Or something similarly poetic.

“I’d blame the librarians at Stuyvesant Public Library and their extensive collection of sci-fi DVDs, which are a great way to pass the time when you’re stuck in bed with pneumonia _again_.”

Tony sighed and let his head sink against Steve’s chest. Steve wasn’t sure how to react, so he just brought a hand up to run through Tony’s hair. He was pretty certain they’d crossed the line for appropriate camper/counselor-in-training interactions somewhere around “inevitable betrayal,” but Steve couldn’t quite bring himself to care at that moment.

Tony had said he thought Steve was perfect, and that was the greatest birthday gift Steve could have asked for.

It was the sound of a far-away explosion that finally drew them out of the moment, and they stepped apart to see fireworks shooting into the sky far off in the distance.

“Happy birthday, Steve,” Tony said, giving Steve’s hand one last squeeze before he headed off to join the others.

***

Rappelling was always one of the highlights of survival camp, and Steve could see it in everyone’s faces as they all emerged from sleep a good half hour earlier than necessary. He’d done the same thing. There was just something anticipatory and exciting about the adrenaline rush they all knew was coming.

If it’d been up to Peter, they would have hit the cliffs at the crack of dawn.

“Gotta be safe about it,” Bucky reminded him. “Let the rocks dry from the dew. Trust me when I tell you that rappelling on slippery terrain is a whole lot less fun.”

So despite the overall eagerness to get things moving, they hung out at camp a while longer than usual. The sun was well up into the sky before they packed up and made their way to the edge. And then it took more time, as Bucky and Steve went through the safety precautions once, then twice. They each tested the knots and the ropes and the rappel anchor.

Steve was going down first so he’d be the belayer at the bottom for spotting purposes. It also meant he was the only one who went down with a helmet, since he was the most likely to take a rock to the skull as the others descended. Bucky would go last, so he could strap every one in safely and help them from the top if they got hung up. 

“You ready?” Bucky asked Steve, once they were both confident they were fine to start.

“As I’ll ever be,” Steve replied with a grin.

He was so excited. Not just because he loved rappelling but because he was enthusiastic to share his love of it with his friends.

Bucky clipped Steve’s personal anchor tether and backup into place and then untied the rope. He clipped the the rappel device to the the belay loop and then pulled out a few feet of rope to create some slack. It was a complicated process. They had to mind the slack and orient the friction groove to Steve’s dominant side, and Steve could have helped but he didn’t because he knew it was safer to let Bucky do his thing.

Finally they’d moved through every step and Bucky locked the whole kit into place, including the auto-block which would work as a backup in case Steve got knocked unconscious or lost control of the rope.

Then they were good to go.

The first step over the edge was always the biggest thrill. Just the knowledge that you were basically walking over a cliff face, and that it was safe to do so, got adrenaline pumping. And then it was nothing but fun as Steve made his way to the bottom. Since he was the first to go, his task was second hardest (Bucky’s was more complicated) because he needed to belay himself using a safety line and clear the path of as many loose rocks as he could. He would look up every so often and every single time his team would wave and cheer. Tony’s face, in particular, stood out. He was beaming.

When Steve hit the earth another cheer started above him.

“Off rappel!” Steve called up, once he was unclipped.

They needed to do a little more work and send the packs down before any more people would descend. It made more sense to lower them separately than to risk the extra weight or the lack of balance, so for a while Steve was left alone with his thoughts and only the laughter and chatter from far above to keep him company.

Of course, what his brain seemed set on replaying was the night before with Tony. The feeling of Tony’s head leaning against his shoulder. How soft his hair was in Steve’s fingers.

“Earth to Rogers!” Bucky shouted from above. “You’re gonna get a face full of pack any second now, space cadet!”

Steve looked up in alarm. Sure enough, he’d lost track of the trajectory of the bag and a heavy one was only a few feet above his head.

“I got it, Buck!”

Steve so had not had it, but he didn’t want to admit that to anyone else. Really he didn’t want to admit it to himself, either. This was one of a dozen reasons why counselor/camper feelings were a bad idea. Distractions were dangerous, and when they were rappelling they really couldn’t afford them.

He vowed to do better. To keep his mind on what was important. Safety first.

Once the packs were all lowered, the campers could begin. There really wasn’t much for Steve to do but watch and wait and then unclip everyone once they got to the bottom. Peter went first, and he spent the whole trip down shouting “yahoooo!” and “geronimo!” and any other exciting phrase that came to mind.

Tony was next.

Steve forced himself to watch with some professional distance, for safety reasons, and not to smile like an idiot the whole time because Tony’s happy shouts and waves and smiles would have been _heart-melting_ otherwise.

And there was nothing at all professional about the way Steve’s hands shook a little as he reached in to unclip Tony from his harness. It involved being close and putting his hands against Tony’s body and wow. Steve hadn’t even realized how bad this crush (or whatever you call a reciprocated crush) had become until he was inches from Tony and all he wanted in the world was to drag him close and hug him.

But he had a job to do. A job made more difficult as a light drizzle began to fall. It was nothing that should make rappelling too dangerous but like Bucky had said earlier, rappelling down wet rocks was definitely less fun.

At least the rest of the wait was far more entertaining once Peter and Tony were down at the bottom to keep Steve company. And the rest of the group rappelled down from the top without incident, until only Bucky remained.

The last rappel was always a bit tricky. It was a different procedure. Steve could belay from the bottom but Bucky needed to pull the line as he went.

He was only a couple of steps down when all shit broke loose. Or– more accurately, a big chunk of cliff.

All the safety backups in the world weren’t much of a match for the actual mountain crumbling.

“Bucky!” Steve shouted. Kamala screamed. They all had to jump backward to avoid falling rocks.

Bucky got flung out to the side and then slammed into the rocks hard. His line twisted, and he fell twenty feet and landed on an outcrop with a sickening thud.

“Bucky!” Jan screamed.

“M’alive!” Bucky yelled down. “Banged up– but alive!”

“Steve– the line. Hold the line!” Sam reminded him.

“I’m gonna climb up!” Steve called upward.

“Don’t you dare!” Bucky yelled back down. His voice wobbled even with as indignant as he sounded. “I’m gonna scoot back over the edge. Just lower me down slow. M’clipping back in now.”

“Double clip? Triple clip! Whatever is safest!” Jan yelled.

“You sure, Bucky?” Sam added.

“M’not stayin’ up here to end up buzzard food. Now let me do it before I talk myself out of it.”

“I’ve got the rope,” Steve confirmed. “Go over slow. I’ll get you down.”

It was a tense five minutes. Bucky couldn’t hold himself up properly, and there was something about the way his entire body looked limp that made Steve feel sick to his stomach. When Bucky was at head level, Sam and Tony reached up for him and carefully helped him down.

It was bad.

There was a small spot of blood soaking through his clothes, and he was pale. His eyes were okay at least, and Sam seemed to know what he was doing as he started to talk Bucky though the signs of a concussion.

“Which pocket’s the emergency phone in?” Steve asked.

“Right,” Bucky groaned.

Steve unzipped Bucky’s right gear pocket and pulled out the phone. It was thoroughly smashed. 

“Let me see,” Tony insisted, holding out his hand. “Oh– nope. No, this is bad. The battery’s split through. Shit– let me ...”

The whole phone was nothing but loosely held together pieces, and Steve could tell from the look of horror on Tony’s face it wasn’t going to be fixed.

“If it was just the battery I could work around it, but this,” Tony said, pointing at a small metal piece dangling from one side, “is important. And the phone’s not going to work without it. I could try– but honestly it would take me longer to fabricate a fix with what we’ve got than it would take for us to hike for help.”

“I can hike it,” Steve said. “Faster by myself.”

“No way you’re going alone,” Sam said.

Bucky probably would have said that too if he wasn’t working so hard to even out his breathing.

“Alright. Rhodey, you and Jan keep an eye on Peter and Kamala, make sure things run smoothly here. Sam, you’re our guy for first aid. Take care of Bucky. Peter and Kamala, you do what the others tell you. Peter, you’re our lookout. Keep an eye out for anyone passing by who can help and stay safe. Jan, you’re in charge. Tony, you come with me.”

“I’m not dead! I can still be in charge!” Bucky protested, but Steve shook his head.

“You gotta focus on being okay, Buck. Not looking after anyone else.”

Bucky grunted a protest that everyone ignored. It was the best plan. The only plan.

***

Steve set off down the mountain, his brow furrowed deeply with concern, and Tony trailed after him. The first few hours went by in silence. Which was probably a first for Tony. He just wasn’t sure what to say - he knew how much Bucky means to Steve, and Tony could imagine how he would feel if he were in Steve’s position, if something happened to Rhodey. So he didn’t push it, opted instead to wait until Steve was ready to talk.

He did, finally, as they stopped for a short break and a quick snack.

“I know I’m supposed to be mad at Jan for bringing all this candy,” Steve said as he unwrapped a Milky Way bar, broke it in half and popped one part in his mouth, “but I’m kind of not.”

“Good, cuz I’m about ready to build a temple to Janet van Dyne.” Seriously, Tony could practically feel his cells metabolizing all that delicious sugar to energy. Much-needed energy.

The remark earned him a quiet chuckle from Steve, which was perfect. His mood seemed to have lifted a bit, and it lasted well past their snack break, with an easy repertoire of banter between them.

Tony couldn’t help but wonder, though, why Steve had chosen _him_ to go ahead with him to the Rendezvous Point. He could just have easily have taken Jan, who had a hell of a lot more outdoors experience than Tony. Or Rhodey, who certainly made up for what he lacked in experience with enthusiasm. Tony, on the other hand, was pretty useless as an outdoorsman. Heck, he couldn’t even pitch a tent. 

He didn’t have too much time to dwell on it, because they soon reached the river. Steve was glaring at it as if that might make it less wide and deep, but apparently the Force was not strong with him, since the water just kept flowing by them, undeterred. 

“I take it swimming isn’t an option?” Tony said, sarcasm thick in his mouth.

Steve turned to glare at Tony instead of the river. His look softened after a beat, though, and he pressed his lips together in a tight frown. “We’re about twenty miles from the rendezvous, and the water’s gonna be pretty darn cold after all that rain. We _could_ swim across and hike on the other side, but there’s another hill in our way there, plus all our gear would be soaked. So no, not really an option.”

He pulled his pack off his shoulders and took out the trail map. While Steve was busy studying the map, Tony took in their surroundings.

The banks of the river were steep and slippery from the rain. There were thick brambles along the shore, and no trail that Tony could make out. It was going to be tough going.

“There’s supposed to be a trail here,” Steve grumbled, prodding the map as if that might make a trail appear.

“Might have gotten overgrown?”

Steve huffed and ran a hand through his hair. He had a desperate look to him, which Tony could totally understand - the weight of needing to get help for his friend as quickly as possible was heavy on Steve.

A few bigger boulders in the river just a few feet upriver from where Steve and Tony stood had formed a sort of natural dam, trapping some larger pieces of driftwood.

Perfect.

“Alright, hiking’s gonna take forever. Fastest way to travel is on the water, but swimming’s out. 

Tony scrambled down the bank of the river, hopping carefully from boulder to boulder to where the driftwood was. He gestured to Steve and together they pulled out six perfectly straight, slender tree trunks, laying them side by side on the embankment. Tony also took one long, thinner branch, using it as a walking stick as he made his way back across the rocks to the shore.

“Rudder,” he offered as an explanation, gesturing with the stick. “I’m gonna need that tarp you have. And this may take a bit, so maybe you get a fire going, we camp here tonight and head out in the morning?”

***

Steve was used to being the one to give the orders, but it was clear that Tony had A Plan, and as Steve was fresh out of plans (also not a feeling he was very comfortable with), he decided it was best to go with whatever Tony had in mind.

The fire was crackling and a pot of noodles was boiling, and Tony was working a few feet away, talking to himself as he moved from part to part, adjusting here, tightening knots there. Steve took a seat by the fire once the tent had been pitched to watch Tony work. Yeah, Steve wasn’t gonna lie - he was impressed. Armed with a Swiss Army knife saw, a length of parachute rope, a tarp, and a few tree trunks fished out of the river, Tony was building them a raft. They would have to wait until the morning to test its seaworthiness - it was too dark by now - but Steve wasn’t worried. He had faith that if Tony said it would hold them, it would. 

“There aren’t any rapids or anything like that, are there?” Tony called over.

Steve shook his head. “Nah. Should be smooth sailing.”

“Ha ha,” Tony said. “Drifting, at best.”

“This stream feeds into the Green River, but the rendezvous is upriver. We could hike along the north bank and cross at the bridge, but it’s about six miles out of the way.”

Tony stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I’m done here for today.” He washed his hands in the stream, crossed the clearing and settled next to Steve.

The pot gurgled, and Steve lifted the lid carefully to check. “Pasta’s ready.”

“Great, I’m famished. Engineering is hungry work.” Tony said it with such an unapologetic grin that Steve couldn’t help but laugh, almost spilling the pasta as he tried to drain the water from the pot.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Steve said, shaking his head as he wiped his hand where some scalding water had splashed on it.

“I will cry fiercely at your funeral.”

Tony held out the plates as Steve scooped a generous portion onto each, then poured some of the ready-made, just-add-water cheese-approximation pasta sauce over it. They sat side-by-side as they ate, much closer than was really comfortable for eating, but it seemed neither could bring themselves to move.

A few moments of silence had passed as they chewed when Tony nudged Steve’s knee with his own. Steve looked up, saw Tony grinning, and nudged back, which of course devolved into an epic footsie war.

“Rough-housing! Rough-housing!” Tony called in mock-upset as Steve caught hold of Tony’s wrists so Tony couldn’t tickle him anymore. “I yield!”

Steve let go immediately as it hit him how very far across the line of appropriate camper/counselor interaction he had gone. A look that might have been disappointment flickered in Tony’s eyes as Steve shifted away, but that was how things had to be. Steve needed to put space between them - he couldn’t let his feelings for Tony keep getting the better of him.

“I can’t-” he started, letting the sentence trail off as he got up to wash the dishes.

“What the hell?” he heard Tony mutter. He ignored it steadfastly, and things were quiet as they each worked on getting settled for the night.

It’s tough, though, putting distance between yourself and another person if you have to share a tent. Steve had taken his time getting ready for bed, hoping that Tony might be asleep already by the time he entered the tent. Instead, he found Tony propped up on one elbow, clearly waiting for Steve.

Steve steeled himself for a tough conversation, but instead what Tony said was “I hope the raft floats alright tomorrow.”

The easy confidence Steve had grown accustomed to from Tony was gone, replaced by uncertainty and apprehension. Steve couldn’t help but wonder if it was caused by his own reaction to Tony earlier, and guilt washed over him.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Steve said as he shimmied into his sleeping bag. “It looks really sturdy.”

“You think so?” 

It sounded like a rhetorical question, so Steve didn’t reply, opting instead to reach out and give Tony’s hand a reassuring squeeze. That earned him a weak smile from Tony, who let out a quiet sigh.

“Goodnight, Steve.” Tony rolled over, his back to Steve, and wiggled a few times as if trying to find the right position.

“Goodnight, Tony.”

***

It was cold that night. Much colder than the nights before, or at least it felt that way since they were in a tent, just two of them, instead of a larger group in a hut. So if they ended up snuggled around each other, Tony tucked under Steve’s arm, it was just because Tony had been shivering and they couldn’t afford to have one or both of them getting sick, and definitely not for any other sort of reason.

Which is why they also didn’t need to talk about it the next morning, or acknowledge it. Just for warmth.

***

The raft floated. Even after their packs had been laid out on the tarp tied taut across the square frame Tony had built, and after the two of them had climbed onto the raft as well, it bobbed in the water but made no signs of going under.

“Told you she’d float,” Tony said, beaming. 

They made slow but steady progress, using the long stick (Tony dubbed it “the Gandalf staff”) to pole the raft away from the banks or any obstacles. They came close to running aground a few times but managed to get the raft loose again together.

It was easy, working with Tony. They made a good team, Steve found, seemingly anticipating the other’s movements and knowing what to do next. Which was good, because while the raft seemed sturdy enough, Steve wouldn’t bet on it holding up too long if they didn’t move in such unison. 

Lunch was a quick meal of cold noodles from last night with a can of tuna fish, followed by the last of Jan’s contraband candy. Steve was definitely going to have to send her a Target gift card or something for next year so she could stock up.

It was early afternoon when they reached where the stream merged into the Green River, which was a weird name since the water was a murky brown. The water moved much more swiftly there, and it was too deep for the Gandalf Staff to reach the bottom, making it useless for steering. Their only option was to hold tightly to their packs and to the side of the raft and hope that they’d make it across drily.

“How’re we gonna get to the bank?” Steve asked when he realized they were caught in the river’s current, just floating downstream and not across.

“I have an idea. Here, give me that rope.” Tony took the rest of the parachute cord and tied it around the end of the Gandalf Staff. He frowned before handing the stick to Steve. “You’re stronger than I am. Can you break it?”

Steve snapped the stick over his knee and held it out to Tony, who waved it off. 

“Try and loop it around one of the trees on the bank,” Tony instructed.

“That’s your grand plan? Lasso a tree?”

“You got a better idea, Cap?” Tony shot back, his lower lip jutting out petulantly.

Steve did not.

It took a few tries, but on the third throw, the rope looped around a tree trunk, the stick acting as an anchor to hold the rope in place. Soon the rope was taut, and Steve gave it a tug to see if it would hold. It did.

“Yeah, put those ridiculous biceps to use for once,” he heard Tony mutter as he hauled them back to shore.

Steve chuckled and tried to come up with a retort, but the current was strong and the boat was kind of heavy with their combined weight, so he was a bit off his “witty repartee” game. And maybe he also liked the idea that Tony was looking at him like that, just a little bit.

Finally they made it to shore, and Steve held the raft in place as Tony climbed onto land, then dragged their packs up before reaching out to offer Steve a hand. Steve didn’t need the help, but he took it anyway.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, Cap. Thanks for the, you know …” Tony mimed pulling an invisible rope.

Steve chuckled. “Well, like you said, my ridiculous biceps needed the use.”

Tony nodded towards the raft. “Guess we should cut her loose, huh?”

“We should definitely take the tarp, who knows if we might need that later. And we can’t leave the rope on it - leave no trace, after all.”

“Yeah, right.”

Tony tugged at the ropes holding their raft together and the knot slid undone. Steve did the same on the other corner, and, within minutes, the raft was fully dismantled.

“Almost seems a shame,” Steve remarked as he laid the tree trunks that were all that remained of their trusty vessel onto the edge of the river. “It was a good boat.”

“Yeah, basically unsinkable. Like the Titanic.” Tony chuckled and brushed his fingers over Steve’s shoulder as he scrambled up the riverbank. “Come on, Cap. You want, I’ll build you a real boat. You can sail it around Jamaica Bay. HMS Freedom, we’ll call it.”

“HMS is for British ships, Tony,” Steve pointed out, climbing after Tony. 

Tony, who was staring off into the distance with a resolute look that told Steve he had a plan, and that Steve probably wasn’t going to like that plan. As if he could read Steve’s thoughts, Tony broke out in a grin.

“Think I just found us our next ride.”

Steve followed Tony’s gaze across a wide field where–

“Tony, no,” he groaned, but Tony was already climbing over the fence.

“Tony, yes!”

Fifteen minutes later, Steve was questioning all of the life choices that had led him to this moment as a burly guy in a patched flannel shirt who’d introduced himself earlier as Barry handed him a pair of reins. On the other end of the reins was a gigantic dark brown horse that looked like it wanted to be anywhere but there.

“His name’s Mayhem,” Barry mumbled. “Sweet hoss, likes to run, though.”

“Great,” Steve ground out.

Tony was already up on his horse, a small, blotchy black-and-white pinto Barry had informed them was called Pollock. He looked thoroughly at ease, Steve noted with a bit of envy as he pulled himself up into the saddle, Mayhem dancing underneath him.

“You’ve done this before?” 

Tony shrugged. “Dad sent me to a private boarding school in New England. Polo is practically a required part of the curriculum there.”

Steve wasn’t sure whether he should feel sorry for Tony or jealous, since Tony looked so relaxed and Steve had no idea what he was doing. He’d been on a horse exactly twice in his life - once at a circus when he was six, though that hardly counted since it was a Shetland Pony with a belly wider than its legs long and once in his first year at MAvAC, back when horseback riding had been one of the camp activities. It had taken all of three minutes in the saddle for him to have a massive asthma attack. His nose tingled at the memory.

“Well, yeehaw,” Steve said flatly. The sooner they got to the rendezvous point, the sooner he could get off this giant bundle of allergens.

Tony turned Pollock’s nose in the direction they needed to go and clucked his tongue. Mayhem’s ears perked up at the sound and he nickered softly. Steve said a quick prayer.

***

“Wait, wait, wait. Explain to me again how you ended up with two horses?” Natasha crossed her arms and leaned against a fencepost, an amused smile on her face. 

By then, all four cabin teams had arrived at the rendezvous point. Steve and Tony had been the first to arrive, but that was hardly a surprise, since there were only the two of them and, well, Mayhem _did_ really like to run. 

“Offered to pay the guy’s hay bill this winter,” Tony replied with a casual shrug. He reached over to rub between his pinto’s ears, which the horse accepted happily.

“Bucky fell and got hurt,” Steve explained, since Tony clearly wasn’t going to. “We left our most experienced campers with him and the rest of the group while Tony and I went for help. We found a stable, and the owner lent us the horses.”

Tony rolled his eyes at Steve. “This isn’t a debrief, Cap.”

“We rode to camp to let Fury know, and Clint and I went along with the chopper to go get the team.”

That had been a surprise. Fury had been in the middle of telling Steve and Tony that using horses was cheating, and it didn’t count if only part of the team came, even if they were first and way earlier than anyone had expected, when a helicopter had come buzzing in. Its side was emblazoned with the Stark Industries logo.

“Oh look, our ride back up the mountain is here,” Tony had said with a grin. It turned out, Tony had called his family’s driver from Barry’s phone back at the ranch and had them send the company chopper. The pilot needed someone to show them where to find Bucky and the campers, and they couldn’t transport minors without permission, so it had flown to the rendezvous point first, taking Steve and Clint with them up to the hut where the Excelsior group was. Clint, who’d gone white as a sheet when he’d heard that Bucky was hurt.

After they picked up the surprised Excelsior group, the Stark chopper had dropped Steve and the campers off at the rendezvous before hightailing it to the nearest hospital with Bucky and Clint. 

“You just happened to have a helicopter on call?” Loki raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Yeah, I do,” Tony replied defiantly. And if Steve’s heart flickered a few beats faster at that, well, Steve didn’t care. There was about sixteen hours of camp left until everyone made their way back to their normal lives - Steve was done pretending he didn’t have feelings for this ridiculous, brilliant guy.

All of his campers were back safely, Bucky was on his way to the hospital together with Clint, and all that was thanks to Tony and his quick thinking with the helicopter.

“We should probably get these guys back to Barry,” Steve pointed out, running his fingers through Mayhem’s tangled mane. The horse was far too busy chomping on the long grass around him to object.

“We could ride back,” Tony suggested with a wicked grin. “It is so very fun to watch you hanging on to that saddle horn for dear life.” He put on a wide-eyed, terrified face as he mimed bouncing in the saddle.

Steve flicked an acorn at him half-heartedly. It was impossible to be mad at Tony - his stupid crush on the guy aside, Tony did have a point. Steve probably had looked about that terrified as Mayhem had demonstrated his need for speed. “Well, I left my cowboy gear at home.”

Tony buried his face in his hands with a groan. “Dammit Rogers, now I’m imagining you in just a hat and assless chaps.”

“But all chaps are ‘assless,’” Thor pointed out, making air quotes around the word. “If the buttocks is covered, it is just leather pants.”

“Not helping, Point Break,” Tony groaned. 

“I could make some chaps for you!” Jan offered excitedly.

Steve was pretty sure his face was on fire. This conversation had definitely taken a turn he had not been anticipating. “Well once you’ve got your head out of the gutter, Tony, we should get these horses back to their home sooner rather than later.”

“Don’t worry about it, Cap,” Tony said, sidling up to Steve to bump his shoulder against Steve’s. 

Steve tried and failed to fight down the blush he could feel building from just that bit of touch. _Someone might see them._

“I got it covered.” Tony’s words pulled Steve back out of his thoughts, and the easy smile on Tony’s face helped calm him.

If Steve hadn’t already been impressed with Tony’s ability to make things happen, then he certainly would have been about ten minutes later, just as the vans were finished being loaded and the campers starting to claim their seats for the ride back to camp, when Barry and a ten-year-old rode up on horses of their own to take Mayhem and Pollock back home.

“Excellent timing, Bar Bear,” Tony greeted, reaching up to hand the man Pollock’s reins.

“Two hours, just like we’d agreed,” Barry said, tipping the brim of his hat in greeting to Tony and then Steve.

“I’m gonna miss the fleabag,” Tony said with a fake sniffle, wiping away a non-existent tear as they watched the horses being led away.

“I don’t think horses get fleas,” Steve pointed out, fighting to hide his smile as he climbed into the van.

***

Tony had expected to hate camp. He had expected to hate the outdoors, being away from all his projects, the bugs, the lumpy mattresses, the crappy food. He had expected to hate being thrown together with a bunch of kids he couldn’t possibly fit in with (because sure, they might be his age, but they were all still in high school and he was more than halfway to his Bachelor’s degree - how could they possibly have any common ground?). He had expected to hate it purely for the reason that Howard had made him go.

And he had hated it. Every stupid, horrible minute of it.

All fifteen of the minutes of camp that had passed until Steve had walked in.

It wasn’t just Steve, though, who had made camp bearable (awesome). It was Jan and her contraband candy. It was Sam and his dorkiness about Tony’s silly robot videos. It was Rhodey’s contagious enthusiasm about everything related to camp. (Poor kid needs a hobby.) It was the fact that no one seemed to care about his last name, that he could just be himself. That he didn’t have to hide the fact that he was into a guy because someone might go and out him by posting a picture on Twitter or something.

Part of him wanted to stay forever. 

There was a soft knock on the open door, and Tony looked up from the pile of his things he was trying to stuff into his bag. It was probably too early to start packing - they weren’t going to be picked up until tomorrow afternoon - but Tony had been full of anxious energy ever since they’d gotten back to camp two hours ago. Tony had been desperate to channel that energy, but without robots or engines to tinker with, he’d been left with few other options.

“Hey,” Steve said softly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the doorframe. 

That much beauty in one person should be outlawed, Tony thought. Really, that’s just excessive.

“Hey yourself,” Tony replied, tossing aside the jeans he’s been “folding.” He caught himself shoving his own hands in his pockets, realized he probably shouldn’t mirror Steve because that might seem pathetic, pulled his hands back out of his pockets, opened and closed them for lack of a better idea of what to do with them before crossing his arms. No, that was stupid - crossed arms are terrible body language. He uncrossed them again, picked up the jeans once more and set to work actually folding them this time.

“Packing already? There’s a party later, you know. End of camp sort of thing.”

Tony shrugged. “Figure if I get most of it done today, I can maybe sleep a little longer tomorrow morning.”

“It’s not usually _that_ raucous a party. You won’t want to miss breakfast in the morning, though.” Steve crossed the room to where Tony stood, picked up a tangled pair of jeans and started folding. “There’s gonna be waffles. With bananas and maple syrup - they make it here during the fall session.”

“There’s a fall camp session?”

“Yeah.” Steve laid the jeans in Tony’s bag and grabbed another pair.

“You going to be here for it?” His parents would definitely let him go if he asked - it would mean he wouldn’t be hanging around the house during that one week of fall break when the dorms closed. If it meant a chance to see Steve again, Tony could certainly be away from his projects for a week.

Steve shook his head. “Ma can barely afford the summer session, even at the reduced rate for CITs. You?”

“Nah,” Tony said. He’d hadn’t been _seriously_ thinking about it. At least not _too_ seriously. “Too much work going on with school.”

Maybe he was imagining it, maybe he was just hoping Steve was sad they wouldn’t see each other again in the fall session, but there was a wistful quietness to Steve after that. He didn’t say much as they finished folding Tony’s clothes. Rhodey reappeared from his shower, and Steve left soon after, saying he needed to get ready for dinner and the end-of-camp party after.

“Yeah, see you at dinner,” Tony mumbled as Steve said his goodbyes.

“Uh, did I miss something?” Rhodey asked after Steve had left.

“No. Hey, did you know they have a fall session too?”

“I did not. I’ve got that ROTC thing during fall break. You going?”

Tony shook his head. “School stuff. They close the dorms, though, so I’ll probably come home, hang out in the R&D lab at SI.”

“Orrrrr,” Rhodey said, “you could call up Rogers, who lives just a ride on the 5 train away.”

“Oh please,” Tony scoffed, “like I’d take the subway.”

Rhodey was doing the “stop being an idiot, Tony” face, so Tony flipped him off and left the room. He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture from Rhodey. Steve had been pretty clear when he’d said he couldn’t, and Tony wasn’t about to go trailing after him like some lovesick puppy. Things just hadn’t worked out between them the way Tony had hoped, but that was just how things went sometimes. Tony had been in that boat plenty of times before. He wasn’t about to get all “summer dreams, ripped at the seams” about it.

Besides, he had a party to get ready for.

***

Four hours later, the party was in full swing and Tony was downright surprised to see that this ragtag group of kids, who had all spent the last week sleeping on sticks and navigating by the stars, really knew how to let loose.

The dining hall had been transformed into a sort of dance club. Where there was usually a buffet bar, there was now a drinks bar. Hank Pym, one of the counselors, was serving drinks (boring ones like fruit punch made with actual juice and caffeine-free sodas). One of the first-year campers, a weird kid who went by the name of Mysterio and fancied himself a magician, was trying to hypnotize anyone who made the mistake of trying to get a drink, so Tony steered clear. He watched Clint and Bucky, wrapped up in a we-love-each-other-so-we-must-crush-each-other type competition at the pool table. Barnes played a decent game, but Hawkeye was incredible. Sure, the guy could hit a bull’s-eye without even looking with his bow and arrow, and probably also at darts, but Tony wouldn’t have expected that skill to transfer to pool, which was all angles and ricochet velocity and so much delicious math. He toyed with the idea of challenging Clint to a game once the two of them were done, but they looked more like they had other plans for later.

Besides, Tony spotted Steve out on the dance floor, and that boy needed rescuing.

“Are you choking? Do you need help?” Tony teased as he sidled up to Steve, making sure to stay out of the way of his flailing legs.

Steve rolled his eyes and kept dancing. Or whatever that was. 

Tony opted for a more subdued “find the beat and sway with it” approach. “Is this what the kids in Brooklyn are doing these days?”

A few feet away, Sam was also getting his groove on. Unlike Steve, he looked like he actually knew what he was doing.

“It’s called the Charleston,” Steve puffed. He was slightly out of breath, his face flush. Must be hard work, all the bouncing around. “Nat taught me. At school. She’s in the Dance program.”

“Damn, she must really be taking this Timely/Excelsior rivalry thing seriously.” It was just teasing - Tony made sure that was clear from the tone of his voice - but Steve slowed to match Tony’s swaying. A stab of regret rolled through Tony at the thought that he’d made Steve feel bad enough to stop dancing, but then Steve took a step forward and was very, very close to Tony. Close enough that Tony could feel the heat radiating off Steve’s body as they moved. Close enough that Tony could have just reached out and taken Steve’s hand in his.

“You didn’t have to stop,” Tony said, his throat suddenly dry. There was _no way in hell_ he was going to leave and get a drink now, though.

Steve shrugged. “It’s pretty warm in here. You wanna go outside and get some air?”

Tony nodded, a bit too enthusiastically to be cool. “Yeah, practically melting.”

He followed Steve out the side door, which opened onto a wide patio with a low brick wall around the edge. Steve headed to the far corner, took a seat on the wall, and gestured for Tony to join him. 

Their knees were touching. Tony probably shouldn’t have been so focused on that - it was just their knees, it probably didn’t mean anything, people’s knees touch all the time - but his brain couldn’t process anything else at that moment, and his heart was hammering against his ribcage so hard Tony was a little concerned.

“So, now that it’s almost over, what’s your final verdict on camp? Still as bad as you thought?” Steve, that utter bastard, nudged Tony’s knee with his and grinned.

“Ten times worse. Especially the CITs. The absolute worst.” 

Steve shot him a Look that said he wasn’t buying Tony’s deflection.

Tony took a deep breath and started again. “It’s funny. Howard sent me here because he thought camp would “make a man out of me.” But it hasn’t done that at all, really. If anything, it’s actually given me a chance to be a _teenager_ for once.”

Steve looked over to Tony with a warm smile, so Tony continued. “Back at school, everyone is always treating me like I’m some little kid. Which is bullshit - I know, _language_ \- because they’re only, like, two years older than me. And I’m at least five times smarter than them.”

“And four times less self-certain, clearly,” Steve said with a chuckle.

“What can I say? It’s important to know one’s strengths when others are just harping on one’s weaknesses.”

“You know, the Tony I met three weeks ago probably wouldn’t have had such adult revelations.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of _adult revelations_ , Rogers,” Tony said with a suggestive wink.

Steve groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Grown-up. I meant grown-up. Like an adult. Mature. You know what, never mind. Clearly I was mistaken. You haven’t grown a bit here at camp.”

There was amusement in his voice, so Tony didn’t take offense.

“I haven’t. Still 5’6”. Doc says I might make it to five-nine, maybe. If I’m lucky.”

“My doctors told me I’d always be below-average height,” Steve offered.

Tony looked Steve up and down appraisingly. “Nothin’ below-average about you, Cap. So there’s hope?”

“So there’s hope.” There was a moment’s pause before Steve added, “There’s always hope.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony asked. He caught Steve’s gaze and held it for a moment, wondering what Steve was thinking, if he was thinking the same thing as Tony.

“Sure,” Steve breathed. 

Looking back, Tony still isn’t sure who made the first move, but there they were, the space between them suddenly non-existent, Tony’s hand snaked around the back of Steve’s neck, Steve’s hand on Tony’s cheek, their foreheads pressed against each other.

“Here’s to hope,” Tony whispered, pushing himself up on his toes to brush his lips against Steve’s.

The thought that ran through Tony’s head, as he was kissing Steve and Steve was kissing him back, was “Holy shit, I’m going to explode.” And not in a sexy, change-your-pants kind of way. Tony felt like he was literally going to poof into a billion tiny Tony pieces. Like he’d just reached max level and now, game over.

He’d kissed people before, mostly in intoxicated closet-makeout incidents at parties at boarding school and now in college, but nothing compared to this. That was like the opener band, and Steve was AC/DC.

It wasn’t even a particularly long kiss, but when they pulled apart again, just far enough for Steve to rest his forehead against Tony’s, Tony was pretty sure he’d just lost the capacity for higher cognitive functions.

He tried to tell Steve this. It came out “Steeeeve. You.”

Steve chuckled softly in response, a warm sound that reverberated through his chest, pressed up so nicely against Tony as they stood in a close embrace. “Tony. You too.”

Tony had no idea what Steve meant by that. Surely he didn’t mean that he– better not to delve into that line of thinking too much right now.

“Party’s probably winding down,” Tony said instead. “Then everyone will go back to their bunks. Tomorrow we’ll all have breakfast together one last time, and then everyone goes home.”

“Yeah, that’s how it works.”

“Tomorrow we won’t be camper and CIT anymore.”

“Yes, that is true.”

“Tomorrow we go home.”

Tony couldn’t help but detect a tone of wistfulness in Steve’s voice when he replied, “Yes we do.”

His knee-jerk reaction in a situation like this, learned from years of tip-toeing around the Wrath of Howard, would be deflection. “Well, it’s been fun, see ya.” That would be the easy way out. No pain, but no gain.

Time to man up, Stark. Oh, the irony.

“I want to see you again, Steve.” He pulled back just far enough to look Steve in the eye. “After camp. There’s a few weeks of summer still before I have to go back to Boston.”

A smile spread across Steve’s face. He leaned down to brush a quick kiss over Tony’s lips before he replied, “I’d like that. A lot.”

Tony was grinning like an idiot, and the explody feeling was coming back again, but thankfully he was saved by Jan bursting through the doors.

“You guys! They’re gonna bring out th- oh!” Jan stopped mid-sentence when she saw them wrapped up in each other’s arms. “Never mind, the cake’s not _that_ great anyway!”

She disappeared again as quickly as she had bounced in, but there was no missing the excited “YES!” from inside. Tony and Steve caught each other’s glance before they both burst out laughing.

“I guess we weren’t the only ones rooting for-” Steve gestured between the two of them.

“I guess not.”

“Come on, let’s go get some cake.” Steve stepped out of Tony’s embrace but held out his hand for Tony to take. Which he did.

“Lead the way, Cap.”

***

Epilogue:

Golden-orange leaves swirled across the path in the light breeze as Tony made his way down the Mall. It was early fall, the first longer weekend since school had started again and the first chance Tony had had to come back home. He breathed in deeply - oh, Manhattan, you smelly beauty. He sure was getting spoiled by Cambridge’s fresh air. There was no denying, though, that this here was one of the nicest spots in the country - a wide alley flanked by gnarled oak trees that were throwing down their leaves, casting a golden glow on everything. Benches along the edge of the path were occupied by tourists reading maps, street artists hawking cartoons, a guy strumming a guitar, a lady engrossed in her book, and there, on one of the benches, the best sight in all of Manhattan.

Steve’s face lit up when he saw Tony approaching, and Tony felt the tension seep out of his body. 

“I have something to tell you,” Steve had said when he’d told Tony to meet him here. Tony had been panicking, of course. Replaying every single conversation they’d had (which had been many) since the last time they’d seen each other at the end of the summer, when Tony had had to leave for school. Steve hadn’t given any indication of being unhappy, but maybe Tony had been missing something? Maybe the distance had been wearing on him?

“Hey you.” Steve’s voice pulled Tony out of his thoughts, and when Steve reached out to pull Tony into a hug, brushing a kiss over the top of his head, well, by then Tony’s concerns had been washed away.

“Hey yourself,” Tony mumbled, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist.

“You have a good drive in?”

Tony definitely hadn’t exceeded the speed limit whenever traffic allowed, definitely hadn’t practically sprinted across the Park from his family’s house so he could get here sooner. No, that would be silly.

“Yeah, it was alright. Bit of traffic, but what else is new …” Tony was too keyed up for small talk. “You said you had something to tell me?”

Steve pulled back just far enough to look down at Tony. “Yeah, I do.” He smiled and pulled an envelope out of his hoodie pocket. “I got this a couple days ago.”

It was a thick envelope, and stamped boldly across the front was BOSTON UNIVERSITY. Tony took it from Steve and turned it over in his hands.

“Is this …?”

“I got in!” Steve beamed. “Early admissions. Partial scholarship and everything.”

A grin spread across Tony’s face. “Hey, that’s just across the Charles.”

“Yeah, fancy that,” Steve said with a chuckle as he reached out to pull Tony close. “Come on, let’s go get some lunch. I’m starving.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[ART] I am Iron Man!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12815025) by [Selofain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selofain/pseuds/Selofain)




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